


the cage of his ribs

by heartofstanding



Category: 15th Century CE RPF
Genre: (brief and mostly implied and internalised), Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Bondage, Friends With Benefits, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, basically 30k of PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 12:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20975813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: Edward still misses Richard greatly, but he's able to have some friends-with-benefit sex with Hal's closest friend.





	the cage of his ribs

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not sure who Richard Courtenay is, check out the end-notes.
> 
> Thanks to angevin2/shredsandpatches for reading bits of this and always being encouraging during the process of writing this weirdly self-indulgent, epically long PWP.
> 
> Also, I didn't edit this to the degree I normally edit my fic (namely because this is a self-indulgent, epically long PWP) so please forgive any typoes/etc.

It was a cold night and yet Edward was hot all over. He had drunk too much and no doubt his face was bright red. His skin was too tight and stinging sweat kept trickling into his eyes and made him blink furiously. Edward closed his eyes and felt the room spin around him. He would go out and let the cold air outside sober him.

He stood and stumbled, his hip hitting a chair with bruising force. It was good, in a way, that the chair was there or else he would have fallen. One of his attendants asked if he wanted to go to bed. Edward shook his head and managed to get to the door this time.

It was darker outside, most in bed or sequestered in their own quarters. Edward clung to the wall as he worked his way out into the courtyard, where the air was bitingly cold and the wind harsh. His sweat turned to ice and his eyes watered. He felt small, a tiny speck on the earth and he wondered why his, or anyone else’s, body insisted on living when the world was so vast.

An attendant tugged at his arm. ‘Your grace, you should go in. You will catch cold. It is late. Your grace?’

Edward nodded. Somewhere, he knew those things already. It was late and he would only disappoint Hal if he caught ill.

Inside, he felt too hot again and stopped to tug at his collar. Sweat built up beneath his armpits again and he thought, thought that he was more than merely drunk. Perhaps he had caught a fever after all.

A door creaked, footsteps came. Edward turned. He saw only the back of a tall man, his hair golden and his clothes dark, and his heart leapt. _Richard. _

It was impossible. He knew that. Even if Richard had lived – and he hadn’t – he would not be here. Edward had been fooled like this before. Yet he still watched the man hungrily as he opened another door and stepped through it, and followed.

Though the man did not seem to be walking fast, he was nearly at the other end of the passageway by the time Edward entered it. He did not look back at Edward, turned left and went down another corridor. Edward began to run. It would not be Richard, he knew that, but if it was—

He had to be sure.

His breath was wheezing, his heart throwing itself against the cage of his ribs. He did not know where he was, where his attendants had gone. Down a set of stairs, the man did not seem to be walking fast and yet he always out of reach, no matter how Edward ran. Edward could see now that he held a taper in his hand, the light a steady glow illuminating his long fingers.

Edward clutched at the banister, knew he was being foolish. It was not Richard.

Another door. Edward charged at it, his body slamming hard into its surface. It smashed against the wall. The man spun around with a short cry, the flame of his candle nearly blowing out. But it was enough to illuminate his face. He was not Richard.

Or rather, he was not Edward’s Richard.

‘Your grace!’ Richard Courtenay said. ‘Your grace, are you – what is the matter?’ He stepped forward, face spasming. ‘Is it Hal?’

Edward shook his head. He felt foolish now, knew he must look a crazed fool. Despite his worry, Courtenay was well-contained, his clothes immaculate. Edward was overly hot again and covered with the sweat of his exertions. He did not know how to explain without revealing his delusion. _I thought you were Richard. _Courtenay looked nothing like Richard, really, though they were both tall and blond. Their faces, though both beautiful, were utterly unalike.

Courtenay was watching Edward with what seemed like concern. Edward did not like that. He wished to go and hide his shame, he did not want Courtenay to pity him. Worse, he might tell Hal that the Duke of York had lost his wits and was wandering the halls at night, accosting people.

‘I think you should sit down,’ Courtenay said.

‘My doctor has been advising me to run at night, says it improves my humours.’

Courtenay laughed. It was not unkind, but it said: _I know you just made that up. _

‘I don’t your doctor has much sense, then,’ he said. ‘My rooms are close to, come and sit and have a drink.’

‘I shouldn’t,’ Edward said. ‘I should sleep.’

Courtenay raised a brow. ‘You seem a bit rattled for sleep.’

‘I thought you were – someone else,’ Edward blurted out.

‘Who on earth did you—’ Courtenay cut himself off and went pale. He _knew. _

‘I’m sorry,’ Edward said. ‘I drank too much.’

‘Oh,’ Courtenay said.

There it was, the _pity. _At least it was not scorn – or disgust, but Edward would not have expected disgust from Courtenay of all people. That was little comfort anyway. Courtenay knew and he pitied Edward.

‘I – I should really go,’ Edward said.

Courtenay reached for him but Edward stepped back. He went for the door again and stopped. He would have to face Courtenay again, tomorrow and days after that. And he would not be drunk then.

‘It’s alright, your grace,’ Courtenay said very quietly.

Edward glanced over his shoulder. Courtenay hardly looked like Richard, really. A little shorter, a little wider, a little softer. How Edward had ever been so confused between the two of them was inexplicable. The product of a drunk or mad mind, surely. He smiled, knew it must look ghastly, and left.

*

Edward could not hope to follow the conversation between Hal and Courtenay. It had started, somehow, with an innocuous comment about how sunny it was outside, how unnaturally bright, and then a comment about the chronic lack of funds, some tricky debate about a point of law (Edward’s head, already sore from his overindulgence the night previously, wanted to splinter into a million shards), jumped towards an attempt to discuss Chaucer’s _Troilus and Criseyde _before, _somehow, _they ended up inventing increasingly creative insults about the Archbishop of Canterbury.

But he could watch them and admire them. They were clever and funny, and that made them beautiful – at least, it did to Edward’s eyes. Hal was animated in a way that Edward could only really remember him being after he had lost his childish shyness under Richard’s care but before he had learnt adult reserve during his father’s usurpation. He laid his hand along Courtenay’s forearm and bowed his head as another fit of laughter overtook him.

Courtenay’s physical glory (the first time Edward had heard him called the Flower of Devon, he understood it at once) was made all the brighter by his guileless affections_._ When he smiled, Edward could remember how it felt when Richard had gifted him with a rare, genuine smile. As though the sun had come out and shone directly on him. Except now it shone on Hal, not Edward, and the sun was weak.

Edward wanted to be happy for Hal, really. But their closeness, their joy – it discomfited Edward, reminded him that he could never be that happy again. Never again would he feel like Hal must be feeling now, that bizarrely overwhelming sense that he was loved perfectly by someone. _Edward’s_ lover was dead, dead, dead.

He watched Hal more closely, tried to scrutinise his face. Had he been told about Edward’s indiscretion last night? Edward did not think so – he was not sure that Hal was that good of a liar to be so merry when he knew Edward had chased after Hal’s own lover. No, the worry was that Courtenay would tell him later, and then Hal would be furious or worried.

He clutched at the cup near his hand, raised it to his mouth and took a swallow. Somehow, the movement had caught Hal’s attention; he swung to face Edward.

‘You are sitting quietly there, cousin,’ he said. ‘Surely you have no great love for Arundel? Please, tell me you aren’t compiling a list to report back to him with everything we say!’

Courtenay was watching Edward again, all that pity in his expression. Edward forced a smile at Hal, knew it must look sickly because Hal’s smile faded and concern began to take over his expression. God, Edward hated it.

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘I overindulged last night, that’s all. My head aches.’

Hal nodded. ‘You should go back to bed then, try to sleep it off. We can manage without you.’

That wasn’t the point. ‘I didn’t want to disappoint you.’

‘Oh Ned,’ Hal said, and for a moment he sounded exactly like Richard used to. The warmly exasperated sigh. Edward hurt.

‘I’m fine, really,’ Edward said, more to cover his reaction than to reassure Hal. ‘It’s just as sore head.’

Hal’s eyes narrowed, turned assessing. Edward held his breath. But Hal nodded and stood, stretching out his limbs.

‘Alright, but take things at your own pace. I have to go now, but we’ll speak later.’

Edward nodded. When Hal was gone, Courtenay leant in and lowered his voice.

‘You shouldn’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s not as though I would tell him.’

Edward swallowed. ‘You shouldn’t lie to him.’

‘I don’t.’ Courtenay leant back in his chair. ‘But it does no one any favours to tell _that _story.’

‘I am sorry.’

And Edward was. He felt the shame of his indiscretion again, how he had chased after Courtenay – a man he knew and counted amongst the slim group of his friends, a man who was often kind and gentle – and revealed his fits of grief-driven delusion.

‘I know. You said so last night.’

‘I was drunk. It meant nothing.’

‘You have wounded me most grievously, your grace,’ Courtenay said. ‘I spent the night in a fit of delight, thinking I was as pretty as King Richard.’

Courtenay was grinning – _teasing _him. Edward shook his head, feeling a smile pull at his lips. No one could come close to being as beautiful as Richard, but he thought Courtenay was not too far away. He told him so and Courtenay flushed and laughed, thanked him for the sop to his vanity. Edward had always known Courtenay was handsome before, but now – he saw it all the more clearly. He was not a match for Richard, but no one would be that and there was a warmth and teasing joy in him that made him more welcoming a bed mate – if Edward dared to consider the purely hypothetical possibility of bedding Courtenay.

It came to him all at once, setting his face aflame, that he wanted to. Courtenay would not ask for money or favours, Courtenay would be entirely willing, _a friend, _and there would be no cold transaction or stiffness in their manners. No rule beyond the need for secrecy. Courtenay would be a safe choice – he could not expose Edward without risking his own exposure, and Edward knew he was a gentle sort of man who would be slow to hurt anyone. Edward could call him _Richard _and not be so exposed.

Of course, Courtenay was Hal’s. That was a problem.

*

Edward managed to get through the day without his head splitting open and he was careful not to drink too much wine. Most importantly, he was careful to confine himself to his room, to his bed, and not go walking in the night. He laid his head on the pillow and breathed in. It smelt of nothing in particular. He closed his eyes.

In the morning, he opened them and went about his day’s business. In the afternoon, he found himself at a loss and Hal was busy, so he went in search of Courtenay, who he found sitting outside, face turned up to the sky. Of course, he was beautiful, of course Edward wanted him, but he knew he shouldn’t.

Courtenay was not Richard. Courtenay was Hal’s. Courtenay was eight years Edward’s junior. Courtenay was beautiful and Edward was a tired man gone to seed. Courtenay could not possibly like him. If it was a choice between fucking Edward or a rock, Courtenay would surely choose the rock.

‘Shouldn’t you be at prayer?’ Edward asked him. ‘Or whatever it is you do?’

‘I am taking joy in God’s creation,’ Courtenay said. He opened his eyes and squinted at Edward. ‘Or, at least, warming my bones. It’s cold inside.’

Edward hadn’t noticed. ‘Will you walk with me?’

‘May as well.’

They walked for a time in relatively comfortable silence, heading for one of the orchards. Courtenay picked an apple from one of the low branches, studied the red skin.

‘Is it ripe?’ Edward asked.

‘How do you tell?’

Edward did not know. Courtenay shrugged, polished the apple on his sleeve and then bit into it. He pulled such a face that Edward laughed.

‘Delicious!’ he cried and offered it to Edward. ‘Here, try it.’

‘What? No! I saw the face you – it’s not ripe!’

‘I was just surprised by how good it was. You _have _to try it.’

‘Would you make Hal try it?’

Courtenay smirked. ‘Hal would make _me _try it.’

Edward took the apple, holding it in his hands. His eyes were drawn to the white, powdery flesh of the apple that Courtenay’s mouth had revealed. He took a breath, looked again at Courtenay.

‘You are careful, aren’t you? With him, I mean.’

Courtenay’s gaze was cool. ‘I am the Prince’s loyal friend and obedient servant. I would not hurt him.’

‘I didn’t mean to say that you would,’ Edward said. Somehow it had gone wrong. Courtenay was defensive, oddly formal. ‘I just meant, if he is _vulnerable_—‘

‘And you suppose I make him vulnerable?’

Courtenay’s jaw had shifted, become tight. Edward had offended him, he had not meant to – he did not want to have given insult.

‘I don’t…’ Edward shrugged. ‘I just mean… I don’t wish for him to be hurt, or either of you to be put at – at risk.’

‘Your grace,’ Courtenay said, drawing himself up. ‘We are but friends. I am not his Gaveston.’ He sighed. ‘He is not like us.’

‘Oh,’ Edward said. ‘I thought—’

‘He is not,’ Courtenay said shortly. ‘And I will not tell him that I am.’

That could be a bad idea, Edward supposed. He looked down at the apple in his hand, ran his thumb over the bite-mark. If he took a bite, he could lay his mouth over that mark and it would almost be like kissing Courtenay. He bit into it and reeled back, eyes watering. It was tart and sour.

Courtenay was laughing. He plucked the apple from Edward’s hand and tossed it onto the ground, amidst rotting apples and fallen leaves. Edward wanted to touch him, to fold his fingers over Courtenay’s long fingers though he knew they would not be calloused as Richard’s had been and probably smelt of ink and parchment rather than perfume and cold gold. He wanted to run his fingers through Courtenay’s hair, to draw him close for a kiss like he had once been bold enough to do with Richard. He knew he could safely ask for these things – Courtenay would not be cruel – but asking would only end in rejection. He cleared his throat.

‘So – so, you are waiting for Hal? To realise that you—?’

‘No,’ Courtenay said. He shrugged. ‘He might never realise. That might be for the best, too. Anyway, I am not very good at being alone.’

‘Nor,’ Edward said. ‘Though I don’t seem to be any better with company.’

Courtenay looked sideways at him. He had beautiful eyes; not grey like Richard’s but amber, and his eyelashes were long and thick. Edward could not stand to watch him.

‘I think you’re fine enough,’ Courtenay said. He reached out and touched Edward’s wrist, his fingers sun-warmed. ‘I think we should be direct, should we not?’

‘I suppose,’ Edward said. He felt the urge to let out a stuttering laugh. If he had to admit to wanting Courtenay, even if it was only because he reminded Edward a little of Richard, he would be humiliated.

‘You want me,’ Courtenay said.

‘Don’t. I know – I know you can scarcely want me.’

‘Why would you think that?’ Courtenay’s other hand rested against Edward’s cheek.

‘I’m not – I don’t. I’m _old._’

‘You’re not – and even if you were, you’re still beautiful,’ Courtenay said. He leant in and kissed Edward’s lips lightly, entirely respectably. ‘I think we should speak of this elsewhere. Tonight.’

Edward nodded, dazed. Courtenay smiled.

‘I’ll come to your room. I think you’d get shy and refuse to come if we were to meet in my room.’

Edward stepped forward, took Courtenay’s face in his hands and kissed him forcefully, pushing open his mouth. It was not a very good kiss; the angle was wrong and their teeth clacked together. It had been years since Edward had kissed someone (_Richard_) like this, but he was allowed to kiss Courtenay. There would be no rules of things one must not do tonight, only enjoyment. He pressed Courtenay back, shoved his shoulders against the trunk of an apple tree. His mouth could taste the sour bite of the apple on Courtenay’s tongue, and he only pulled away when he felt he would run out of breath.

‘I will be there, waiting.’

Courtenay ran his thumb across his own kiss-swollen lips. Edward wanted to kiss him again, wanted to have him there, wanted to fuck him against the tree. But he could hear voices. Gardeners, coming to tend the orchard, perhaps, or someone else coming to wander through the trees. Courtenay stepped away from the tree, straightened his clothing. He smiled at Edward, reaching out to brush his fingers over the back of Edward’s hand.

‘Tonight,’ he promised.

*

Edward laid in his bed, looking up at the hangings with his symbol of the fetterlock. He had bathed in preparation for Courtenay’s joining him and smelt of the chamomile and orange blossom that had been infused in his bathwater. He felt deeply conscious of his body. His belly, soft and plump, moved with his breaths, his nipples had pebbled in the cool night air and his cock twitched against his thigh. Yet there was a sick kind of worry churning at the edges of his consciousness. What if Courtenay did not come? What if he did, but only to make excuses? What if Edward had misread his intentions? Courtenay was young and beautiful; he could not possibly want to be pawed at and fucked by Edward.

Edward’s fingers clutched at the sheets covering his body and saw how they heaved with his panicked breaths before he forced them to slow. He wanted a cup of wine, or several, to calm his nerves but he did not want to be drunk. If Courtenay let him, he wanted to remember it. More than that, he wanted to be capable of doing it.

A quiet knock on the door, a murmur of voices, and then Courtenay was there. Despite himself, Edward sat up at once.

Courtenay moved quietly around the room and Edward dismissed his attendants with shaky words. Courtenay stood by the fire until they had left and then stripped himself naked in quick, efficient movements, and laid his clothing over a chair. He turned and faced Edward with no hint of shyness.

He was not Richard. He was pale and lean, but soft – he had never trained, as Richard had or as Edward had, for warfare or sport, instead following the life of a scholar – and not as lithe. Dark blond hair curled at his groin; his cock lay there flaccid. The firelight did cast his skin in soft, warm tones but it did not make him luminous like it did Richard. He arched his brows at Edward and huffed a small laugh.

‘Shall I turn so you may study my back?’

Edward shook his head. ‘Come to bed.’

‘Will you let me study you as you have studied me?’

‘Why would you want to?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

Courtenay climbed into the bed beside Edward, put an arm around him and drew him close. Edward shuddered at the heat of his body, at the brush of Courtenay’s sharp hip against his own. He did not want to continue the conversation so he took Courtenay’s face in his hands and kissed him. It was better this time. Without encouragement, Courtenay’s mouth opened beneath his, pushed back against his invasion. Edward straddled him, took hold of Courtenay’s shoulders to push him flat against the mattress. Edward’s cock was stiff already and he could feel the answering heat and hardness against his thigh.

He drew back, panting, as Courtenay’s hands ran down his side, cupped his buttocks.

‘Turn over.’

Courtenay strained to kiss him again. ‘Why? There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere. We have hours to this night, and other nights, besides.’

Edward bent his head and kissed Courtenay, short and sharp. ‘There’s so many things I want to do you.’

‘There are hours to this night,’ Courtenay said. ‘And there will be other nights.’

The words warmed Edward. He wrapped his hands in Courtenay’s hair, used it to draw Courtenay’s head up for another kiss. His cock twitched.

‘I wanted to fuck you against the tree,’ Edward said.

‘Well, it’s a pity you didn’t.’

Edward groaned and pressed his mouth against Courtenay’s, his cock jerking as if Courtenay’s words had wrapped around it and squeezed. Even if Courtenay turned over, Edward knew he wouldn’t last long enough to penetrate him.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘If I – oh God.’

He shoved his face against Courtenay’s shoulder, knew shame had coloured his face. It had been too long and the sensation of having a warm, willing body beside him was too much. He did not know how to stave off his climax, was at the mercy of the powerful weight of his arousal. It was bad enough that he felt jaded and old beside Courtenay’s youthful beauty, but now he would spend himself like he was a fumbling adolescent again, or, worse, like the first time Richard had kissed him.

‘I’m going to – too soon,’ he said.

Courtenay’s arms tightened around him. ‘I can work with that. Sit up.’

He gave Edward a little shove and Edward sat up, wishing to pull at the sheets until he was fully covered again. His cock stood straight up, red and leaking. But Courtenay moved, hand pressing against Edward’s knee as he pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning in to kiss Edward.

‘What?’ Edward said.

‘Well, my plan is to make you come now, and then again later.’

‘Oh.’

‘Any objections?’

Courtenay smiled at him, cheeks dimpling, and when Edward shook his head, he scooted forward and bent his head, hot breath ghosting over Edward’s cock. Edward’s body twitched all over and he squeezed his eyes shut, hands clutching at the sheets as Courtenay wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. Then Courtenay’s mouth descended.

He cried out, his hands abandoning the sheets to grab Courtenay, one hand in his hair, the other on the smooth skin of his shoulders. Courtenay’s lips and tongue worked over the sensitive slit of his prick and Edward gasped and shuddered. Courtenay kept going, tongue moving to caress the underside of Edward’s cock and hand squeezing as he took more and more of Edward’s cock in his mouth. Edward’s eyes opened blindly, wet with tears. He couldn’t, he couldn’t. But Courtenay didn’t stop, not until his lips were a ring around the base of Edward’s cock and his throat was convulsing around Edward’s length.

Edward cried out and came, the pleasure working through him in a pulsing rush. His hands bit down tightly on Courtenay, and Courtenay – Courtenay swallowed and swallowed again.

Edward’s heart raced, his mouth wide open as he gasped for breath. He kept staring at Courtenay, the golden head buried in Edward’s groin, the pale warm skin. He forced himself to ease his grip, and Courtenay pulled off, lying his head on Edward’s thigh, beside the spent cock that was damp and shiny with spit. His hair was a tangled mess, his lips red and swollen.

‘Sorry,’ Edward said. ‘Sorry, did I – I’m sorry.’

Courtenay laughed, turning to press a kiss to Edward’s thigh. His hand went down to his own hard cock, wrapped around it and squeezed.

‘Why?’ Courtenay said. ‘I liked doing that.’

It was too hard to answer.

‘Let me return the favour at least,’ Edward said instead, but he didn’t move.

Courtenay turned to push himself up and nudge Edward flat on his back. He straddled Edward, knees either side of Edward’s hips and buttocks pressed against Edward’s limp cock. Edward felt it twitch again and groaned.

‘I want to see you,’ Courtenay said.

Edward shook his head. ‘I’m old.’

Courtenay rolled his eyes. ‘You’re thirty-six. You’re not old.’

Edward’s head kept shaking. He tried to think of something he could say to prove Courtenay wrong. But he could not. Courtenay was twenty-eight; he was hardly to believe that in eight years, he would feel as old and as decrepit as Edward did. But then again, Courtenay probably wouldn’t, either. He possessed that same youthful spark that Richard had.

Courtenay leaned forward, laying his chest against Edward’s, and kissed him gently, almost sweetly.

‘You’re quite handsome, you know,’ he said, and then kissed Edward again before he could protest.

He rolled his hips against Edward’s, the hard line of his cock pressing against Edward’s groin. Edward groaned, reaching to pull Courtenay closer. He wanted to argue – he _wasn’t – _but each thrust dragged his attention elsewhere and he only cared to kiss and touch Courtenay. He ran his hands down over Courtenay’s smooth back, reached to cup his buttocks.

‘Do you have oil?’ Courtenay asked.

Edward’s cheeks flushed and he pointed to the small box sitting beside the bed. Courtenay grinned, kissed him and bent over to get to the box. Edward took a breath, studied the curve of Courtenay’s back, the stretch of skin broken up only by a mole beneath one shoulder blade. He touched it with a fingertip, traced the length of his spine, the dips in and out. Courtenay made a triumphant noise as Edward’s finger reached the small of his back, and fell back against Edward, a phial of oil in his hand.

‘How do you want me?’

Edward’s cock stirred at those words and he swallowed, hard. He tried to imagine how he should take Courtenay – with Courtenay on his back, his legs bent up to his chest? With Courtenay on his belly, presenting himself to be penetrated? With Edward on his back, Courtenay riding him? He wanted everything.

‘I – I don’t know,’ he said.

Courtenay nodded. He bent and kissed Edward again, pushed the phial into Edward’s hand. Edward clutched at it, one hand going to Courtenay’s hip, squeezing as if to hold him. He followed the line where hip met belly and found, at the junction of Courtenay’s thighs, the hard, hot weight of Courtenay’s prick. He stroked it slowly, felt and heard Courtenay’s breath hitch, saw his eyes flutter and body jerk. His own cock was hard again.

‘On your belly.’

Courtenay nodded, pulling away from Edward to place himself on his belly, his buttocks raised. His legs were spread, revealing the dangling scrotum, the hard cock. Edward’s teeth dug into his lower lip and he reached to touch the delicate flesh. Courtenay’s breath became harsh.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Edward said.

There was part of him that wanted to cover Courtenay’s pale skin in worshipful kisses, but he understood that the desire was misplaced – he would have wished to do the same to Richard and Courtenay was not Richard. Instead, he uncorked the phial, coated his prick in oil, and then reached to part Courtenay’s buttocks and reveal the dark, ruddy flesh of his hole. He rubbed oil over it, felt the heat of it, and pushed inside with one slick finger.

Courtenay moaned; Edward caught sight of his face, flushed all over. He pushed in as far as he could reach, the thud of his blood loud in his ears. Courtenay was tight and warm. Edward pressed his face to Courtenay’s back. He couldn’t – couldn’t draw this out.

‘Ready?’

Courtenay jerked a nod and Edward withdrew his finger, added more oil to his cock. He tried to be careful, but his desire made him clumsy. He needed to do this, needed to be inside Courtenay. He pressed the head of his cock to Courtenay’s hole and gripped Courtenay’s hips as he pushed inside.

Courtenay cried out, his head dropping down onto his arms, his body going rigid save for the tremors moving through it. Edward’s mouth was open and gasping. Courtenay was so tight, his flesh pulsing around Edward’s prick. Edward held still, fumbled to feel Courtenay’s cock which had begun to soften at the suddenness of his penetration.

‘You’re so…’ Edward said, and then trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

‘Thanks,’ Courtenay managed to get out.

He groaned and didn’t move, letting Edward fondle him until some of the tension had left his body. Then, slowly, he hitched his hips forward, pressing his prick into Edward’s hand. It hardened again slowly, but Courtenay’s breath didn’t stop stuttering. He clenched down around Edward’s cock and Edward groaned out loud, hips jerking before he forced them to still.

‘Keep going,’ Courtenay said. ‘I’m fine.’

Edward nodded, though Courtenay couldn’t possibly see him. He reached and stroked Courtenay’s hair, the golden strands, and then set one hand on Courtenay’s shoulder and the other on his hip as he drew back, seeing the length of his cock emerge before he thrust forward, his hips and belly slapping against Courtenay’s buttocks. Courtenay cried out, crammed his fingers in his mouth in effort to silence himself.

Next time, Edward thought, he wanted Courtenay on his back so he could see his face better. He braced himself and began to thrust, losing himself in the tightness and heat of Courtenay’s hole, the way it spasmed around Edward’s cock. He kept his hand moving around Courtenay’s cock, liked the way his back arched and he tightened around Edward when Edward twisted his hand at the end of each downward stroke. He liked the sounds Courtenay made as he was fucked.

Pressure built in Edward, his hips were jerking frantically and his balls were drawing up tight. He was going to come. He wondered whether he should pull out and spill on Courtenay’s back or remain inside Courtenay. But a loud groan spilled from his mouth and he came before he could decide.

Courtenay pushed a hand down to his own cock, laid it over Edward’s. Together, they stroked Courtenay until he stiffened and came, body collapsing against the mattress. Edward pressed his face against the flushed skin of Courtenay’s shoulder blades, felt his own face hot against them as he covered them with wet, desperate kisses.

*

Edward woke in the morning, overly warm. In sleep, he had wrapped himself around Courtenay’s body and his cock was nestled against Courtenay’s thighs, just beginning to stir. Edward kissed Courtenay’s shoulders, running his beard along the smooth skin. He could recall them both waking during the night and rutting gracelessly against each other until they had spent themselves again. If Edward went back to sleep, they might do it again. The night might last forever.

But it was already morning, though still early. The air outside his bed was cool and he was warm, but he had only an hour, at best, before they would be disturbed. He closed his eyes and pressed in close. One more hour, at least – let him have that before disturbing the dream.

When he woke again, Courtenay was up and washing by the fire. Edward watched him through slitted eyes, felt disappointment when Courtenay began to dress.

‘I know you’re awake,’ Courtenay said. He came back to the bed and kissed Edward gently, his hand cupping Edward’s face.

‘I was hoping it was a dream and I’d wake up with the night still young.’

‘I know. But I have to go,’ Courtenay said. ‘I’ll come again tonight – if you want.’

‘Please.’

‘Then I’ll come,’ he said. He kissed Edward again and left.

*

Edward half-expected to see Courtenay with Hal – it seemed they were always together in his memories – but when he found Hal, locked away in a small, stuffy study, his only company was a clerk who was going through a long list of accounts with him. There was a flash of irritation when Hal looked up, but then he smiled, his face losing all severity. He held up three fingers. Three pages left, Edward guessed, or something close to that – he would wait.

When Hal was done, he stood and stretched, then came around the desk and took Edward by the elbow.

‘God,’ he said. ‘Get me out of here. I’ve been at it all morning. I was beginning to think that I’d eat the accounts if it wouldn’t mean more work.’

Edward grimaced. He understood why Hal liked to scrutinise the accounts – they were always short on money, no matter how many pleading letters Hal wrote to his father or how much of his own plate and jewels he had pawned – but he could have never done it so studiously or rigorously as Hal did, or be bold enough to question and argue with his clerk.

He led Hal out of the room. Although the halls were warm, they felt cold after the stuffiness of the study.

‘Just the accounts?’

‘And letters,’ Hal said. ‘One from my lord father, one from John: _the north still stands. Pity, I want to go home. _And one from the Bishop of Winchester.’

‘What does Henry Beaufort want?’

‘To remind me that I’m his _favourite _nephew, what else? And that he finds me very wise and humble – not to mention handsome – and if I could see my way to granting him some favour, he will support me forever.’

Hal scrubbed a hand over his face. It lingered over the grotesque scar on his cheek, which Edward had taught himself not to flinch at. _Handsome. _Beaufort should know better than to use that word, at least if he thought himself subtle_. _Edward doubted that Beaufort had worried about anything but his own position when Hal had nearly died six years ago, and now he thought to play to Hal’s vanity or insecurity by flattering him.

‘But you – you look better,’ Hal said. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well,’ Edward said. Hal must have known that Courtenay had shared his bed last night, though, presumably, he thought it was a normal sharing of beds. ‘I found Courtenay to be fine company, and he assured I got to bed at a decent hour without too much wine in me.’

‘He’s good like that,’ Hal said. ‘I’m glad you’ve become friends with him.’ He squeezed Edward’s arm gently. ‘You know, I worry about you.’

‘You shouldn’t,’ Edward said. ‘I’m always fine.’

‘Yes,’ Hal said. ‘Like me.’

Hal nodded at an attendant to open the door and they went out into the courtyard, where the air was sharply cold and for that reason, refreshing. Edward was not remotely comfortable with the notion that Hal worried about him – he was not a person or duty Hal should feel responsible for. _He _should be the one worrying about Hal and if Hal thought differently, clearly Edward had failed somewhere.

‘What did Beaufort really want?’

‘He doesn’t say,’ Hal said. ‘He’s always too clever to come out and say it. But I can guess. My lord father has been ill again – just a passing fit, apparently. But Beaufort seems to think that—’

Hal glanced around and lowered his voice so Edward had to strain to hear him.

‘He thinks that my father should abdicate in my favour, for he cannot continue as he is and remain a viable king, while I – young, handsome, full of energy, or so Beaufort claims – am wasting away doing the work of a king whilst also managing my own duties.’

Edward shuddered. He had heard such words uttered before. The prelude to usurpation, to deposition. He did not want that to begin again, nor for Hal to be involved in it.

‘I know,’ Hal said. ‘And he doesn’t say it openly, so I can hardly write back and tell him to keep his treason to himself. My father would die before he even thought about abdicating and it wouldn’t be in my favour.’

No. Edward supposed if Hal ever accepted the sceptre and orb from Henry’s living hands, he would find them covered in claw marks. But that wasn’t that worried him. If Hal was even suspected of being involved in a treasonous plot…

‘You are careful, aren’t you?’

Hal shrugged. ‘Ned. You really have to ask?’

‘I do,’ Edward said. ‘You know what Henry is like. He sees—’

‘Treason everywhere, I know.’

‘He executed a _bishop_, Hal. No one is safe.’

‘I used to think,’ Hal said. ‘When I was little – if he wanted me gone, I’d go and be a friar. There’d be no shame in that, it might have even made him happy. But it’s too late for that now.’

Edward squeezed Hal’s arm tightly. ‘I worry about you. I don’t know I’d do if I lost you as well.’

‘Get more dogs, probably,’ Hal said. ‘Come on, I haven’t eaten all day and I know you like to feed me.’

Edward sighed. He knew Hal didn’t mean to hurt him with this levity. Hal had a curious lack of understanding his own worth outside of the symbolism of his status and titles – Edward tried to imagine what Richard would say if he heard of Hal wanting to be a _friar. _

‘You’re right, I do. How can you have not eaten _all day? _I suppose your nurse must have despaired of you at dinner time.’

Hal laughed and they went back in. In a way, Edward thought, they were both the same, him and Hal. The hurt remained, running deep, and they were too scared to let anyone see.

*

While they were eating, Courtenay came. He looked better than Edward felt, as if his stomach was not layered with old and new griefs, and wherever he had been, he hadn’t spent it locked in a small study, dealing with financials and letters from scheming relatives like Hal had. He sat beside Hal and stole one of the hirchones from his plate, which Edward forgave because he first teased out from Hal a genuine smile. When he took a second, however—

‘Get your own,’ Edward said.

‘Oh, fine.’

Courtenay raised his hand, gesturing for one of the attendants to bring him food. Hal ignored them both, poking at the spinach tart before turning to Courtenay only to be presented with the stolen hirchone. He opened his mouth and Courtenay popped it in, jerking back just as Hal’s teeth threatened to snap down on his fingers.

‘Well,’ Courtenay said. ‘I have been very bored today. Tried reading, it didn’t seem to take.’

‘You think you’ve been bored,’ Hal said, chewing and swallowing.

‘Accounts day, was it?’ Courtenay grimaced and slung his arm over Hal’s shoulders. ‘You should have asked me to do it. You could have finally said something to that girl—’

‘What girl?’ Edward asked.

Hal’s cheeks had gone pink. ‘Don’t encourage him, Edward. He imagines there’s a girl who has taken a fancy to me for some reason.’

‘I’m not imagining her,’ Courtenay said. ‘She likes you.’

Hal snorted. ‘Thank you for proving that this girl is entirely based on your imagination.’

Courtenay rolled his eyes. ‘She isn’t. But she hasn’t seen the state of your finances like I have and believes you will keep her in jewels and silks.’

‘Then it’s her that’s overburdened with the imagination,’ Edward said. ‘I suppose you could have hunted instead of courting her.’

‘Now, _that’s _a good idea,’ Hal said. ‘We can hunt tomorrow. Maybe.’

*

Courtenay came to him early in the evening, before Edward had yet to move into his bed. So he challenged Courtenay to a game of chess and watched himself lose rapidly. Courtenay smiled at him ruefully as he began to replace the pieces for another game.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘My uncle taught me to play.’

Edward nodded. He supposed anyone who had learnt chess from the former Archbishop of Canterbury would be hard to beat. Edward could not recall who had taught him how to play, but they hadn’t been very good at the game either.

‘And you must play a lot with Hal. I’ve stopped – stopped playing with him. If I win, it’s because he’s letting me or he’s distracted. Do you beat him?’

‘Sometimes. We don’t play much.’ Courtenay said and returned the last pawn to its rightful place. ‘I can teach you some strategy if you’d like.’

‘I wouldn’t bother,’ he said.

He didn’t really care about chess, it was a thing to do to pass time and he often felt like he had too much time. He supposed he should have picked some other game, perhaps read to Courtenay from his book, but he felt shy about his words and would have preferred to read it to Hal, who at least had read earlier drafts and was always encouraging.

Courtenay’s foot nudged against his and when Edward looked up at him, he smiled.

‘I have a very excellent idea,’ Courtenay said. ‘Why don’t we go to bed? It’s early, I know, but it means we have more of the night for ourselves.’

Courtenay was right, Edward thought. Bed was a very good idea.

*

Edward took longer with Courtenay that night, laying him on his back and kissing his skin, running his hands over Courtenay’s pectorals and then feeling his nipples harden beneath palms, the colour of them pale pink. He drew it out, using his fingers inside Courtenay until his face and chest were flushed and he was gasping and wet-eyed, his fingers digging into Edward’s side as he begged – _actually begged _– for Edward to stop teasing him.

Edward fucked him then, drawing his legs up to his chest and watching the rapture break over Courtenay’s face. The way his teeth dug into his lip, the way his eyes would screw up as his body took what Edward gave him so well, so greedily. Courtenay did not try to muffle himself, one hand stroked his own cock and the other stayed anchored on Edward’s hip.

Edward’s own hands were planted either side of Courtenay’s head, bracing himself on the mattress. Courtenay stared up at him for a long moment, his eyes gleaming like amber, and then he turned his face and pressed a kiss to the inside of Edward’s left wrist. Edward felt heat running through him, as though Courtenay’s kiss had poured fire into his blood that flowed all the way down to his cock, trapped in the tight ring of Courtenay’s flesh, and he thought he would come.

He didn’t, Courtenay did. Courtenay’s teeth bit into his wrist as he cried out and his body squeezed down tight around Edward as his cock jerked and seed streaked across his belly. Edward held still, his body trembling, and then withdrew. He took himself in hand until he came over Courtenay’s thighs. He stared, panting, at the flushed flesh stained with white seed. He thought it meant something, but Courtenay reached for him, drew him down and kissed him.

*

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Courtenay. ‘About having an adventure with you.’

He was stroking through Edward’s hair as he spoke. Edward did not think he wanted to go on an adventure just then. He did not feel like he was about to sleep but he felt lazy and enjoyed the warmth of Courtenay’s body beside him, their legs entwined.

‘What sort of adventure?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Courtenay said. ‘But it definitely involves you fucking me against a tree.’

Heat lit Edward’s blood. Courtenay’s hand sneaked down to grasp Edward’s cock and squeezed it. Edward groaned and pressed his face into Courtenay’s collarbone. He did not think he had so much sex in ten years as he had over these two nights and there was more on the way.

‘I am fully on board with this adventure, so long as you don’t mean to go now. I’m too comfortable.’

‘No.’ Courtenay sounded as if he might laugh.

‘Although,’ Edward said. ‘That doesn’t preclude us from having an adventure in bed.’

Courtenay laughed and kissed him, licking into his mouth. ‘Is that what you call sex, then?’

‘It could be a useful code,’ he said. He thought about it and pulled a face. ‘God, no. We’d get so many volunteers then who’d only be bitterly disappointed that adventure means sodomy.’

‘I don’t know,’ Courtenay said. ‘Some might be delighted.’

‘Probably no one we like.’

‘True.’ Courtenay made a rueful noise. ‘Tell me, what do you want me to do with this?’

He squeezed Edward’s cock, which was hard again. Edward jerked in his grip.

‘Ride it,’ he said. ‘Unless you’re sore.’ He froze. ‘I never ask. Do you – do I hurt you? Am I too rough?’

‘Edward,’ Courtenay said. He sounded so gentle, so fond. ‘You’re a very kind man and a very good lover. You don’t hurt me.’

He slipped away from Edward and pushed him down flat on his back. He found the bottle of oil and slicked his hands, then Edward’s cock, before straddling Edward and reaching behind himself to hold Edward’s cock steady. Edward’s toes curled and he forced his eyes to stay open and study Courtenay as he slowly penetrated himself. Courtenay’s own cock was half-hard, bobbing as he bore down, his face tight with effort and Edward wanted to tell him to stop, that he must be hurting himself, but he could barely think anything beyond how stunning Courtenay looked, the sunset hue of his skin, the gleam of sweat upon his straining, beautiful body. Edward cried out at the constricting heat, tighter than it had been before, enveloping his cock, but at last Courtenay had settled, his buttocks flush against Edward’s thighs.

Edward reached for him, careful not to move too much. He thumbed the sweat from one hipbone, cupped it carefully.

‘You,’ he said and swallowed. ‘You shouldn’t have done that. You hurt yourself.’

Courtenay reached and held Edward’s hand with both of his.

‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘I know what I can handle.’

‘I saw it,’ Edward said. He squeezed Courtenay’s hands tight. ‘I’m not – I’m not worth pain.’

‘Oh God.’

He leant down and kissed Edward gently, the change in the angle of their bodies making Edward gasp and pant into the kiss. Sweat trickled down his brow and Courtenay wiped it away. What was wrong with him, Edward thought, that all he could think was how good it had felt and how much he wanted to fuck Courtenay, or – better, watch Courtenay fuck himself?

‘Edward,’ Courtenay said, nuzzling against him. ‘It was a little more intense than usual, maybe, but it didn’t hurt and I’m not in pain.’ A pause, another kiss. ‘I’m not lying. I don’t like pain and I don’t lie to soothe vanity.’

Edward nodded at last. Courtenay smiled at him, kissed him again.

‘That’s better,’ Courtenay said. ‘It was sweet of you to be so worried.’

He straightened slowly, his knees digging into the mattress. Edward moaned, arms moving to hold Courtenay’s hips. Courtenay’s hands rested on Edward’s belly, his fingers spread. His head hung down, hair falling to hide his face. For a moment, he looked very much like Richard, but Edward could not bear it and strained to brush his hair back from his face and tuck it behind his ear.

Courtenay pressed his face into Edward’s palm, kissed it. Slowly, he rocked himself on Edward’s cock, his mouth falling open. His hands flexed on Edward’s belly, and gradually, his cock hardened fully. Edward’s hips hitched up, chasing the sensation of Courtenay’s body moving around his prick, the tightness and heat of it.

Edward let his palm fall from Courtenay’s face as his movements became quicker, more definite. He rose up, hands digging into Edward’s belly to brace himself, Edward’s cock almost slipping out of him, and then fell back on it only to push himself up again. Edward’s mouth was open and he couldn’t – couldn’t believe it. How good it felt, how beautiful Courtenay was, fucking himself, how he was _allowed _to do this. He reached for Courtenay’s prick and stroked it, tried to time it so that Courtenay was pushing himself into the grip of Edward’s hand with each rise of his hips.

Courtenay reached for the hand gripping his hip.

‘Want – want you to feel it,’ he said.

‘I do,’ Edward said. His eyes felt overlarge in his face.

‘No,’ Courtenay said. His hand took Edward’s, directed it back behind him. Edward’s fingers gripped the soft flesh of a buttock, kneaded it, but still Courtenay pulled him on, until with a groan, he found what Courtenay wanted him to. The place where Courtenay was spread open, the straining ring pierced by the slick width of Edward’s cock.

‘Oh God,’ Edward said, filled with awe. Courtenay’s hips moved and he felt his own cock emerging and then being enveloped again by that tight flesh.

Courtenay nodded, let his head fall back and moaned. His body clenched down around Edward’s cock and he rode it frantically. Their flesh slapped together, Courtenay’s cock leaked copiously, smearing against Edward’s belly. Edward could not hold himself back, did not want to. His hips shot up in a frenzy and he gripped Courtenay’s prick tighter, stroked it faster.

He was not sure who came first, only that one moment everything was wound so tight that he thought he would break, and then the pressure gave way and he was coming. He heard nothing but his own heartbeat, though he knew he was crying out, as Courtenay convulsed around him, the heat of Courtenay’s come spreading across the expanse of his belly.

When he came back to himself, Courtenay was slumped, but still upright. He made a small sound, shook back his hair to give Edward an exhausted smile. He lifted himself slowly, Edward’s cock slipping free with a rush of seed, and then Courtenay tumbled down onto the bed beside Edward.

Edward reached for him, kissed him. Courtenay put his arms around Edward’s neck.

‘Next time,’ Edward said. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Courtenay’s eyes darted up to him and he smiled, slow and wondrous.

‘Thank you,’ he said, quite seriously. Then his smile turned devious. ‘I could almost go again, right now, with that vision in mind.’

‘You don’t mind? I know I’m hardly…’

Courtenay’s eyes swept down Edward’s body and then up again, desire and heat clear in his eyes.

‘One day,’ he said. ‘I am going to tie you up and not let you spend until you admit that you are a very attractive man.’

Edward groaned. ‘I might let you.’

‘You should.’

Courtenay smirked and his hand moved down to Edward’s belly, traced a pattern through the seed he had spilt there. Edward looked down over the rounded curve of his belly, the flushed, spent cock that was damp and glistening with his own sweat and spend and blushed.

‘You are a mess,’ Courtenay said. ‘But then, so am I.’

‘You should clean us up.’

‘Bossy.’

But Courtenay kissed him, got up and fetched the pitcher of water. He dampened a sponge and wiped himself down. Then Courtenay came back to Edward, kneeling beside him. He bent his head and _licked _his come from Edward’s belly. Edward groaned, his cock twitched miserably before Courtenay used the sponge to wash Edward in long strokes.

‘If I could keep you in my bed all day, I would,’ Edward said and then flushed. It sounded too controlling, as if he saw Courtenay as nothing but a vessel to be fucked.

Courtenay put the pitcher and sponge down on the floor, leant to kiss Edward before pulling back to give Edward an impish smile.

‘One small flaw in that plan,’ he said. ‘You’d never get to fuck me against a tree then.’

*

Edward woke at some dark hour. Courtenay was on his side, his back to Edward and head curled forward, and still slumbering. Some of the blankets had slipped down, revealing a pale flank, the flesh prickled with cold. Carefully, Edward pulled the blankets up again, smoothed them over Courtenay’s shoulder.

He thought, if Courtenay was awake, they might have sex again. Maybe they would slide their bodies together for a quick, messy rut or Courtenay would use his mouth on Edward again. Or Edward would press his face into the pillow, spread his legs and lie there, rapt in the pleasure of his body, as Courtenay used him.

He had never been penetrated by anyone except Richard before. His exchanges since Richard’s – since Richard were quick and dirty, riven with fear. The risk of exploitation and exposure was great enough without the risk of being caught bent over a table, being buggered by a groom, no matter how much the image had appealed to him. But he knew Courtenay, trusted him implicitly.

He thought again of the wondrous look in Courtenay’s face when Edward had told him what he wanted. It seemed clear that he wanted it, but never thought he would get the chance – Courtenay thought himself blessed. Courtenay would be good to him – as good as he had been these past nights – and he would not betray Edward.

It came to him then that he did not love Courtenay, not in the way that Courtenay deserved. He was a friend and so Edward loved him for that – but it was not the love that one should feel for their bed partner. Courtenay was clever, affectionate and effortless affable, he had won Hal’s confidence and trust, and he was an ardent, responsive lover. Edward felt stupefied by his youth, his beauty, his willing eagerness to be buggered and to go along with all of Edward’s depraved suggestions. But he did not love him.

He loved Richard.

How could he think he could have this? It was not right, what they – _he _– had done. Richard might have teased him over Courtenay’s superficial resemblance to Richard, but he would not be pleased. Edward’s treasons against Richard, his true and rightful king, were great already without this betrayal. He was wanton and greedy, seduced by a beautiful man who let Edward sodomise him.

Edward reached out, his hand hovering over Courtenay’s shoulder. He should wake Courtenay up, send him away. He should not have allowed any of this to happen. When he felt the stirrings of desire, he should have stifled them. He should not have answered Courtenay’s plain invitation, should have kept his distance so it had never been made. He knew the way forward. He would send Courtenay away, then take penance. He would take himself to the orchard where he first kissed Courtenay, strip naked and scourge himself for countless winter nights.

That was this latest treason of his deserved.

Yet he couldn’t.

He was warm and comfortable here. He did not want to be alone. His hand was shaking, he felt on the verge of tears and reached out, pulling Courtenay into his arms. It was not that he particularly wanted to hold Courtenay, but that he was there and no one else was. Courtenay woke, jerking in his arms.

‘Edward, Edward, what is it?’

Edward pressed his face against Courtenay’s shoulder blade, felt the warmth of his skin. He couldn’t say. But Courtenay seemed to understand, twisting to take Edward in his arms and hold him close, letting him weep himself dry.

When it was over, Edward felt deeply aware of the heat in his face, the dampness of tears on his face and Courtenay’s chest. He could feel the light patterns Courtenay was tracing on his back and remembered that Richard always let someone cry it out before speaking. He did not want to remember that.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled.

‘You must miss him so much,’ Courtenay said.

Edward nodded miserably and pressed closer to Courtenay.

*

In the morning, all of his resolution had fled. They laid curled together, their forehead pressed together, and in the dim light, Courtenay looked like himself, not some false version of Richard, and Edward still wanted him. He did not want to be cold again. Courtenay’s eyes slit open, his lashes fluttering.

‘Good morning,’ he said.

Edward did not know what to say to that, so he said, ‘Do you have to leave?’

‘No,’ Courtenay said. ‘Are you…’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I understand.’

‘It was just…’

‘I understand.’

Edward nodded. He supposed Courtenay did. But he was sorry he had put that all on Courtenay, and told him so.

Courtenay shook his head, pulling his hair away from his face, before leaning forward to kiss Edward’s forehead.

‘Edward,’ he said. ‘We’re friends. Whatever you need, it’s fine.’

‘But—’

Courtenay kissed Edward softly, stroking his hands over Edward’s shoulders and arms. Edward pushed back into the kiss, hands moving to grasp Courtenay’s waist and pull him closer. He did not know what he wanted or what he needed. He pulled back and pressed his forehead to Courtenay’s shoulder.

‘Do you – did you ever love someone so much that you couldn’t – you don’t know how you can live without them?’

Courtenay was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. Edward froze. He had expected Courtenay to say no. It was not that he thought Courtenay incapable, but that with his brash, blasé approach to sex, he would struggle to ever settle with one person. Edward swallowed. What if Courtenay was in love with _him? _What if Edward had unknowingly taken advantage of his affections?

‘It’s not – god – oh please say it’s – but you can’t mean _me_.’

Courtenay laughed softly. ‘No, Edward. You can stop panicking. We’re just having fun. There’s no need to overthink it.’

‘Why me, then?’

‘Why not you? You’re a good, kind man and you’re very attractive, in spite of your crippling self-doubt. I’m not going to spend my life pining in the hope something will never happen.’

‘But—’

‘Edward,’ Courtenay said. ‘You’re thinking too much. Just have fun.’

Edward leant up to kiss Courtenay again. In a way, it was a relief to know that Courtenay did not love him in the same way Edward did not love him. He enjoyed the sex, he enjoyed Courtenay’s company, but he neither wanted nor needed more from Courtenay than what he was offering. It was just sex – very good sex – with a friend.

‘Then fuck me,’ he said. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Courtenay pushed him down flat on the bed, dropping down on top of Edward. He framed Edward’s face in his hands, fingers curling in Edward’s dark hair, as their tongues curled together. Edward gripped Courtenay’s buttocks, pulled him closer and they both groaned appreciatively as their cocks brushed against each other.

‘Wait,’ Courtenay said, pulling away breathlessly. His lips were red and swollen from their kisses. He lunged for the box by the floor, providing Edward with a nice view of his rounded buttocks. Edward’s cock twitched and there was part of him that wanted to pounce on Courtenay and fuck him then and there.

‘God,’ he said. ‘I just have to see you and I want you.’

Courtenay glanced over his shoulder and smirked.

He came back with the phial of oil, pushing the sheets down so Edward was laid bare and sat down beside him. He was shameless in his nudity, his cock hard in his lap, and Edward bit his lip, wanting more and knowing he only had to wait to get it.

‘Like this?’ Courtenay said, stroking a hand down Edward’s flank. ‘Facing each other?’

Edward nodded, cheeks warm. ‘Please.’

Courtenay swooped down to kiss him, took his bottom lip between his teeth and gently bit. Edward groaned, pulling his legs up and open. Courtenay kissed him, reaching for a pillow to prop beneath Edward’s hips. When he seemed satisfied, he kissed Edward again, and dragged his mouth down Edward’s body, stopping to press kisses to Edward’s throat and nipples, to lathe his tongue over the pale expanse of Edward’s belly, dipping it into his belly button. Edward moaned, torn between watching and not, but his eyes screwed shut as he felt Courtenay’s mouth, hot and wet, breathe air over his straining cock, but not touch him.

Somewhere, he realised it was probably a good idea. He would have come and he wanted to come with Courtenay’s cock in him. But all he could do was roll his hips and whine, a complaint that made Courtenay chuckle and lay his cheek against Edward’s thigh.

‘We can do that later,’ he said, tapping a finger against Edward’s balls. ‘I promise.’

Edward groaned and Courtenay sucked a mark into his thigh. He smelt the sweetness of the oil and then jumped as Courtenay’s oil-slick finger traced over his entrance and slowly, slowly pressed inside.

Edward went stiff all over, body squeezing Courtenay’s finger tight. Courtenay pressed another kiss to the inside of his thigh. Edward took a breath, tried to focus on that rather than the feeling of Courtenay’s finger _inside _him. Slowly, he felt his body ease up and Courtenay began to move his finger, just an unhurried push in that knocked the breath from Edward’s lungs again. When Courtenay added a second finger, just as carefully as the first, his body locked up again and Edward groaned, blinking back tears.

What was wrong with him? He wanted this. He had wanted this for _years_, but been too afraid to do anything more than furtively finger himself at night while imagining someone else doing it before they stuck their cock in him. It didn’t even hurt, Courtenay was careful and attentive, but Edward couldn’t let himself relax.

‘It’s alright,’ Courtenay said. ‘Shh, just let go.’

‘Easy – easy for you to—’

He cried out as Courtenay’s mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, his tongue working skilfully over the slit. Edward looked down just to see Courtenay’s cheeks hollow as he sucked, his own hips tipping up, trying to force more of his cock past Courtenay’s lips, and then pushing back onto Courtenay’s fingers, which barely seemed to matter now.

Edward’s head fell back onto his pillow, gasping. He felt more of Courtenay’s fingers now, easily thrusting in and out of him, stroking the inside of his hole before a third finger was added. It was good – his hips undulated forward, wanting to feed more of his cock to Courtenay, then backwards, allowing Courtenay’s fingers to probe him deeper and find the place that made everything feel more intense. Edward cried out, hands pulling at Courtenay’s hair.

‘Stop – Richard – stop, I’m going to—’

Courtenay pulled back, flashing Edward a smile. His cheeks were flushed red and he was utterly beautiful, hair dishevelled. He waited a moment, as if knowing Edward needed to be left alone to let the intensity fade enough that he no longer felt as if he was about to spend, and then moved, slicking his cock with oil and moving in close, his hipbones brushing against the backs of Edward’s thighs and the press of his erection was like the touch of a brand. His clean hand went up and stroked Edward’s hair back from his face, he pressed their foreheads together.

‘Ready?’

Edward nodded, pulling his legs up higher and wrapping one arm around Courtenay. He trusted him.

The first push had Edward scrabbling on the mattress, fingers digging into Courtenay’s back, but not to get away. It was the sense of invasion, of being held down and possessed, his body opening – the profound stretch of his entrance around the solid, heavy press of Courtenay’s cock. He could only lie there and take it, but it felt so good. He wanted more.

He got more. Courtenay’s mouth descended on his throat, licking and sucking, while he worked his cock into Edward with a slow thrust. Edward’s head fell back, his mouth opening wide in a silent cry. He was Courtenay’s, his body conquered.

Courtenay kissed him, hands stroking Edward’s hair back from his face, and then kissed him again, scrambling and desperate.

‘You took that so well,’ Courtenay said. ‘You’re so good, Edward. So beautiful.’

Edward’s cheeks flushed at the praise, he pulled Courtenay down and sealed their mouths together so he would stop. His hips rocked against Courtenay’s, trying to encourage him to move. Courtenay pulled back a little, his arms moving to steady himself as his hips pulled back, then snapped forward, filling Edward again, settling into a rhythm that was neither fast nor slow, neither a tender lovemaking nor a rough fuck. Edward heard his own voice, raised in a series of groans and cries, and he would have been embarrassed by how he sounded if it had not felt so good. Each thrust pushed Courtenay’s cock against the place that made his penetration and pleasure more intense. It was too much, just lying there and feeling it. But there was little else he could do, arms gripping tight to Courtenay’s back and digging in as he took everything Courtenay gave him.

Courtenay’s mouth was open and panting. ‘Edward,’ he said. ‘Edward—’

If he wanted to say anything else, he couldn’t. But he bent his head down and kissed Edward, a ragged, desperate kiss that Edward poured himself into. Courtenay’s eyes were open and bright, filled with wonder and desire. Edward closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see it, so he could only focus on the sensation of being held, his body continuously invaded and pleasured.

His balls were tight, his legs wrapped around Courtenay’s waist. His hips pushed back against Courtenay’s, the slap of flesh meeting flesh loud in his ears. Edward could feel the small pool gathering on his belly where pre-ejaculate had leaked continuously from his hard and twitching cock. Yet that was nothing compared to his hole, the way it gripped and pulsed around Courtenay’s prick, the intensity of the sensation of being fucked. He had wanted this for so long and now he had it was better than he had imagined.

Courtenay kissed him again, and then rose up onto his knees, taking hold of Edward’s hips. He lifted them higher then used them to brace himself as he slammed into Edward. Edward’s back skidded against the mattress; he reached for something to hold as Courtenay’s pace grew quicker and harder. His hand hit against the wall and he tried to brace himself on that. His eyes opened, seeing his body stretched out, his chest flushed red and pink, his cock fat and swollen, lying on the soft mound of his belly, fluid leaking continuously from it.

Kneeling between his thighs was Courtenay, face tight with concentration, his body thrusting. He was beautiful, but there was strain clear in his expression, sweat beading at his forehead and eyes squeezed shut as he fucked Edward.

‘Richard,’ Edward said.

Courtenay’s eyes opened, he bent to kiss Edward again, one hand leaving Edward’s hips to trace over one tightly pebbled nipple. He nipped at Edward’s lips, straightening again to fuck Edward even harder. Edward cried out, voice wobbling, and took it. Courtenay’s hand swept from his nipple to down his belly. He was going to take Edward’s cock in hand and masturbate him.

But before he could, Edward’s body seized tight, squeezing down around Courtenay’s prick inside him, and he came with a cry, his untouched cock jerking and spurting seed over his belly and chest.

He barely heard Courtenay’s voice over his own heartbeat, but he felt Courtenay’s cock throbbing inside him as he came. Courtenay’s hands were shaking on his hips, his body tilting forward before he straightened enough to pull out and topple down beside Edward. Edward groaned, feeling warm seed dribbling out of his hole.

They laid side by side, struggling to catch their breath. Edward stretched his legs out, trying to take stock of his body. He felt warm and stated, his hole well-used but not sore. Courtenay turned and kissed him tiredly, reaching to pull him close.

‘That was – fantastic,’ he said.

Edward laughed, pressing his face into Courtenay’s shoulder.

‘Thanks,’ he said. He bit his lip. ’I can’t believe I – without being touched!’

Courtenay grinned and kissed him. ‘It was so wonderful, though.’

His fingers traced beneath the smear of seed that had landed just below Edward’s collar bone then circled a nipple wet with ejaculate before licking his fingers clean.

‘Stop it,’ Edward groaned, covering his face as his cheeks flushed. He was not embarrassed by Courtenay’s attention, but aroused and oversensitive. He couldn’t endure another fit of lovemaking so after he came so hard.

Courtenay took Edward’s hands and pulled them away from his face, only to kiss him gently.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll make it better.’

He eased the pillow out from Edward’s hips, threw it on the floor and then left to fetch water and a sponge. He wiped down Edward with long, careful strokes and then washed himself quickly. Then he returned and held Edward close, cuddling him tightly.

The sated state of Edward’s body dragged him close to sleep, the warmth and comfort of Courtenay’s skin lulled him further. He closed his eyes and pressed in closer.

*

Edward’s body was pleasantly sore the day after. The ache sat with him all through the morning until he met Hal coming out of the chapel. Hal’s promise to _maybe _go hunting that afternoon ended up being a _no _and Edward was not surprised but he was sorry. Hal never seemed to have much time for himself, though he was better at snatching some hours for himself than what he had been in years previously.

‘Tomorrow?’ he tried.

Hal shook his head. ‘No, I can’t, I’ve got to – I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Edward said. ‘It doesn’t matter, truly.’

‘But it does,’ said Hal. ‘I want to do it, but I just cannot find enough hours in the day.’

‘It’ll only get worse,’ Edward said.

The days were getting short, the nights colder. Autumn was well and truly set in and winter would only follow. Edward supposed that meant another Christmas, another attempt to pretend he had forgiven Constance, his sister, while all the time wishing she would decline his invitation, and then another year without Richard. Edward would only get older and fatter and Richard was still dead.

‘But I understand,’ he said. ‘We will hunt another day.’

‘We will – I want to do it. It’s just I never have _time._’

‘I know. You’ve said.’

A man drew close, clearing his throat and Hal turned to speak with him. Edward watched how Hal’s attention focused in on the man, how intently he listened. Hal smiled, said something firm and the man went off, happy. Edward did not know where he had gotten that from, it was not something he had seen Richard or Henry do.

‘Sorry,’ Hal said. ‘I don’t know when, but we’ll have a hunt soon – perhaps a properly long one, I feel like it has been too long since we’ve been able to talk.’

Edward nodded. He did not think he could say _I know _or _I understand _again without sounding trite, so he said nothing.

‘I have to – I have to, well, you know,’ Hal said, beginning to back away. He was distracted already, even if his smile was still full of warmth. ‘I’ll send you someone to keep you company this afternoon, though.’

Before Edward could protest – he did not need to be minded – Hal raised his hand in farewell and went.

*

The man Hal sent him ended up being Courtenay. Edward wondered briefly if Courtenay had volunteered, but decided he didn’t care if he did. They walked in the gardens, enjoying the autumn light, the trees with leaves of gold and auburn, and the slight chill in the sun-warmed air.

‘Any tree take your fancy?’ Courtenay asked in an undertone.

Edward flushed bright red. ‘You can’t – people could hear.’

He stopped. There was no one around to overhear them and even if they did, they wouldn’t know what Courtenay meant. They might wonder, but they would never _know _– his own panic would be more of a giveaway than Courtenay’s question. His hands clenched and unclenched and he forced himself to relax, to force a laugh.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Courtenay said. ‘Hal’s sorry, by the way.’

‘I know,’ Edward said. ‘I told him so – and I understand.’

‘I think he’s more worried that you won’t forgive him.’

‘But I do.’

Courtenay shrugged, stretching out his arms. Edward watched him, jealous. How was Courtenay able to be so blasé? They were alone, but Edward would not trust himself to speak openly unless they were alone in closed, contained quarters, where they were hidden from sight. Yet Courtenay had no such shame, though he had surely chosen his words carefully.

‘How many,’ he asked, ‘before me?’

Courtenay glanced at him, eyes widening. ‘How many? Oh—’ he covered his face and laughed. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never kept a tally.’

‘You need to keep a tally?’

‘No,’ Courtenay said. ‘Well, only if I wanted to keep count and I’ve never felt that urge. Does it matter?’

Edward shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. I just – you’re much better at this than I am, and I wondered… is it experience? Or naivety?’

‘Experience.’ Courtenay spoke crisply but he made it sound like a question.

They passed around the corner, verged close to the orchard again. Courtenay glanced around, then took Edward’s hand. His palm was damp with sweat and Edward though he was nervous, but could not fathom why. Did Courtenay think Edward would cease to want him if he thought he was well-experienced – his behaviour in bed had suggested that already.

‘I’ve made mistakes, sometimes,’ Courtenay said. ‘I’ve chosen the wrong person sometimes. It’s not – I’ve never been exposed, you don’t have to worry, I’m always careful about _that._’

‘I’m not worried,’ Edward said, though he supposed his behaviour suggested it strongly. ‘It’s just – I’m not very good at this. I want to do it but I can’t – I’m always _too _worried to do anything. Sometimes – sometimes I’ve paid.’

Edward flinched and waited for Courtenay’s disgust, but it didn’t come. Instead, he squeezed Edward’s hand.

‘You mean to say that I could have been making a tidy fortune as well as getting some very good sex?’ Courtenay said.

Edward laughed. ‘You do me a great charity.’

‘Oh, stop,’ Courtenay said. ‘I don’t.’

They walked in silence for a time. Edward turned his face up towards the sky, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun. He thought of what Courtenay had said – he made_ mistakes, _chosen the _wrong person, _but he had not been exposed. Edward shuddered, the sudden wave of understanding crashing across him with icy-cold precision. He knew, from an objective point, it could happen, but he supposed, between Richard and his own rare encounters, he had been lucky, or luckier than Courtenay, at least.

‘You’ve been hurt,’ he said. ‘By your lovers.’

He pressed a hand over his mouth, sure he should not have spoken it out loud. Courtenay’s eyes darted to his and then away.

‘Not often,’ Courtenay said at last. ‘Not all of them. I have become – smarter, I suppose. It is a risk.’

Edward nodded. There was part of him that wanted to protest. It should not be a risk, Courtenay should not have been hurt. Yet he knew that those things were just delusions. It was a risk, it would always be a risk – it did not matter what he thought, the world had decided differently. Courtenay had been hurt and yet he stood tall by Edward’s side, his face unafraid. He did not seem to be upset or shamed by the memories. He squeezed Courtenay’s hand tighter, wondered if he should do or say something more in effort to comfort him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and hated how feeble the words were.

‘Thank you,’ Courtenay said. ‘But you shouldn’t worry about it. It happened.’

‘A lot of things _happen_,’ Edward said. ‘It doesn’t make them fair – or mean that it doesn’t hurt.’

Courtenay looked at him with such sympathy that Edward wanted to recoil as if his mind had slipped to a place where Edward’s mind hadn’t but should have. Richard. Richard, deposed and murdered. The very wrongness of that pushed and pulled at Edward’s heart and he should have thought of it before Courtenay had and before he had read Courtenay’s pity.

He pulled his hand away from Courtenay’s abruptly.

‘We should go in,’ he said.

‘Of course.’

*

In the gardens again, Edward watched Courtenay walk ahead of him. Had he been cruel to him? Edward was not sure he knew, and was even less sure he knew how to apologise if he had been. Courtenay’s back was a straight line beneath his clothes, his head unbowed. If he was offended or hurt, he did not show it, and Edward suddenly wondered whether he would prefer Courtenay’s offence over his understanding and sympathy.

But it was beside the point, really. He wanted Richard. Everything had begun with him wanting Richard – even his life, it felt. It would be ten years soon and Edward was sure the wound was still bleeding. He could feel the hurt and pain oozing even then and he wanted to stop, to go down on his knees and weep and scream, but he could not. Someone would see, someone would comment.

He had watched, when Richard lost Anne. Watched and tried to comfort, and it had seemed like nothing had helped and he knew now that nothing could help. Sex was just sex, it could be good or bad (as Edward knew full-well), and as Courtenay said – it was _fun. _It didn’t mean Edward loved Courtenay or Courtenay loved Edward. It didn’t, he realised, mean that Richard had loved Edward – Richard _had, _but not as much as he had loved Anne or Robert de Vere.

Edward was, and had been, content with that. Richard’s love for Anne and de Vere was a bright, intense flame that burned eternally at the centre of Richard’s very self; Edward could not hope to inspire a similar love for himself. But it ached and itched at Edward’s heart – what was he, that no one could ever love him more than they loved someone else?

Richard had not. Hal did not – oh, Hal _loved _him, but he did not understand their relationship. Of Edward’s siblings, Constance loathed him and his brother thought little, if he thought of anything beyond his own sense of being wronged. Though Edward was grateful for it, Courtenay was not in love with him but someone else. Philippa, his wife, was fond of him, but it was not enough.

He stopped and Courtenay turned to face him.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘For earlier – I shouldn’t have—’

Confusion fell over Courtenay’s features. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for, Edward.’ He paused. ‘Are you… are you alright?’

Edward started to nod – of course he was alright, he was always _alright. _But then he shook his head, raising his hand to his mouth. He thought he might be sick but it passed quickly. Courtenay put his hand on Edward’s shoulder, pulled him in for a hug. He said nothing, perhaps understanding there was nothing he could say. Edward’s griefs were his own and they could not be lessened, much less cured.

*

Edward thought of sending Courtenay away or, at least, of not having sex that night. But he could not do it. If he was alone, his bed would be cold and empty, and he craved that closeness, skin against skin, to push away his sorrow for a little while. When they were alone, Edward turned and kissed Courtenay. Courtenay held him, steady and secure, and when Edward asked, Courtenay fucked him.

He did it tenderly but not, Edward thought, as an act of tenderness – and that was as far as he let himself think. He did not want to come to the conclusion that Courtenay pitied him. Instead, Edward held tight to Courtenay, kissed him and gave himself over.

It was slow and careful. Edward thought, at first, that it would be torturous, thinking he wanted to be used roughly. To be turned on his belly and fucked without restraint. But, held tight in Courtenay’s arms, Edward could do little more than gasp and moan, Courtenay’s fingers plucking from him a pleasure that flooded through him without mastering him quickly. He felt everything and could not think. It was all he wanted.

He came into Courtenay’s hand with a groan, felt Courtenay follow him and clenched down tight. He did not want Courtenay to pull out and leave him empty and aching. He told Courtenay that in a series of half-shameful whispers, and they slept curled together, as close as possible.

*

In the morning, he felt clearer headed and, if not better, at least not tied down in the pits of his despair and loneliness. If no one loved him _most, _above all others, he knew that Courtenay and Hal still cared for him. Perhaps others did. It was still quite early; the bells for mass were yet to ring. Edward turned, pressing his face into Courtenay’s neck and worrying the skin there with his lips and tongue until Courtenay woke.

‘Tell me about our adventure,’ he said.

Courtenay blinked blearily, rubbed a hand over his face.

‘What?’

‘The adventure we’re going to have,’ Edward said. ‘The one that involves me fucking you against a tree.’

‘Oh, right,’ Courtenay said. ‘Well, I am thinking it will have to be at night – less chance of being caught that way. And soon – it’ll be too cold to venture outside soon enough.’

Edward nodded. ‘Tonight?’

Courtenay kissed him, a quick, passionate kiss that stole Edward’s breath. His hands went up to clutch at Courtenay’s shoulders, to pull him closer.

‘Tonight,’ Courtenay promised.

Edward rolled his hips against Courtenay’s, his cock hard and heavy again. Somewhere, he wondered if he would ever be bored of having sex with Courtenay, if he would ever be able to have him naked and close and not want to fuck him. But he did not care about that right now. all he wanted was to have him—

‘Ride me,’ he said.

‘Not – not enough time.’

Edward swore, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. Courtenay kissed him, hands cupping his face.

‘Tonight,’ he promised.

‘Not soon enough.’

Courtenay laughed, reaching down to grasp Edward’s cock with one hand. Edward’s hips shot up and he groaned into Courtenay’s mouth. Courtenay pulled back, squeezing Edward’s cock. His eyes were dark and gleaming beneath his eyelashes, amused and hungry.

‘I did promise you…’ he said.

He kissed Edward again, then slid beneath the blankets, his hands hot against Edward’s body. His mouth wrapped around Edward’s cock. Edward shouted, hands flying to hold Courtenay’s head, pushing back the blankets so he could _see. _

Courtenay’s hand was wrapped around the base of his pick, holding it steady as he worked over the head of Edward’s cock. His hair was falling over his face and Edward pulled it back from his face. Courtenay flashed a grin up at Edward, taking more of Edward’s prick into his mouth. Edward groaned, fingers clenching around the gold of Courtenay’s hair.

His hands shook. He shouldn’t pull Courtenay’s hair – Richard had never permitted it. But Courtenay did not seem to mind, his throat opening around Edward’s cock as his cheeks hollowed. Edward’s fingers dug into his scalp, his hips arching up. The soft, wet heat of Courtenay’s mouth around his cock receded; Courtenay pulled back to lick his lips and breathe as his hand continued to work Edward’s cock. When he dropped his head again, he didn’t take Edward’s cock back in his mouth straight away, and instead nuzzled against his thigh, before running his tongue down the length of Edward’s cock.

Edward cried out, body arching, and Courtenay swallowed his cock again. His hands tightened in Courtenay’s hair, pulling him down.

He felt close to coming for several moments before it happened, and when it happened, it was almost a surprise. His body felt tight and heavy with sensation, his mind focused solely on his cock buried in Courtenay’s spasming throat, the weight of his body against Edward’s thighs. Courtenay began to pull back, his face pink, and Edward’s hands jerked in his hair, his voice rising in an attempt to warn.

Courtenay choked on the first spurt of seed and the rest ended up spilled over his face.

Edward groaned, his hands shaking. He stared at Courtenay, the pearlescent white _goop _sticking to his face. Some of it was even in his hair.

‘Oh,’ Edward said. ‘Oh – I am – _so _sorry.’

Courtenay blinked, raised a hand to try and wipe some off his cheeks. All he did was smear it. Edward gasped, trying to catch his breath.

‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘I tried – I didn’t – let me help.’

Courtenay sat up and laughed, crawling up the bed.

‘What? You don’t think I look good like this?’

Edward stared at Courtenay, his mouth opening and closing. How was he supposed to answer _that? _His mind felt like it was the consistency of custard and he wasn’t sure if he should say yes or no._ Yes _might be truthful – Courtenay was beautiful and Edward felt a secret thrill to see his seed marking Courtenay’s face – but _no _might sound more agreeable. Courtenay laughed again.

‘Your face. You’re allowed to like this, Edward.’

Edward snorted. ‘What about _your _face?’

‘I could just rub my face on your face and make it your problem,’ Courtenay said. His eyes sparkled but he got up and cleaned his face, splashing cold water and wiping it with a cloth. He turned back to Edward. ‘Better?’

‘Much,’ Edward said. ‘Come back to bed, I need to repay the favour.’

‘Oh, I think I can be persuaded…’

Courtenay returned to bed, lying down beside Edward. His cock pressed against Edward’s hip as Courtenay leant in to kiss Edward, his arms winding around Edward’s shoulders.

‘I can’t exactly—’

‘Your hand’s enough,’ Courtenay said.

Edward pushed Courtenay onto his back and rolled on top of him. Edward kissed him hard, then kissed him again.

‘My hand after your mouth? Seems a little unfair,’ he said.

He began to kiss Courtenay’s neck. He liked Courtenay’s neck, the pale column of it, the stubble against his lips – Courtenay kept himself clean-shaven, though Edward wondered sometimes what he would look like with a beard. He could feel Courtenay’s pulse hammering. He reached down, pushed Courtenay’s hand away from his cock so he could take it in his own hand and stroke it.

‘I’m not – fairness is overrated,’ Courtenay said, his breathing harsh.

Edward raised his head and grinned before moving down Courtenay’s body. Courtenay was obviously close, his cock hot and throbbing in Edward’s hand, so Edward did not linger over Courtenay’s body as he would have liked to. He slid down and took Courtenay’s cock in his mouth, felt the weight of it against his tongue, tasted the salt of Courtenay’s sweat. Courtenay groaned above him, his hands moving to rest on Edward’s shoulders before sliding away.

Edward held the base of Courtenay’s cock to keep it steady, plied himself to his task. Courtenay’s body tensed, his hips arching up, and Edward felt the tip of Courtenay’s cock hit the back of his throat. He pulled back to drag a breath into his lungs, then sank down again. Courtenay’s leg jerked and he cried out and came.

Edward swallowed and rose, framing Courtenay’s face in his hands. He was so beautiful, his eyes creased shut and mouth open and gasping. Edward thought for a moment that he wished he had not swallowed, that he could kiss Courtenay and feed him his own seed. But then Courtenay’s eyes opened and he smiled at Edward, pulling him down to kiss.

*

There was a letter for Edward from his wife, Philippa. It was full of the usual affectionate, aimless things she wrote to him. She professed to miss him, but it was not a plea for his company. For years, they had been companions, each maintaining their own lives. They would meet and be happy together, but they were also just as happy without each other’s company. Or at least, that had been the case when Richard still lived.

But, near the end, she wrote of the Christmas celebrations they had planned. A small sampling of the dishes she intended to serve and the entertainment they would offer. What was worrying was the fact that she had written that Constance, his sister, would be attending.

Of course, Edward had invited her. He had to – she was his sister. But he hardly expected her to accept, as she had made a point of refusing in the previous years. Perhaps she had realised that her presence would upset him far more than her absence.

Edward studied the letter again, hoping that the words would change. They did not. He could not rescind his invite now or make excuses. He would have to go and endure everything and pretend that Constance hadn’t accused him of treason, that Constance didn’t hate him.

Hal. He needed to see Hal. He stood up and went to find him.

*

He found Hal with Courtenay, sitting the sunny courtyard and sharing a pear. The skin and core of an apple were on a plate by Hal’s foot, and they had clearly been laughing. When they saw him, however, they sobered and he wondered if his discomfit was clear on his face or whether it was his presence alone that they were reacting to. They studied him for a moment and Edward did not know whether he should unburden himself to Hal with Courtenay listening in.

‘I should go,’ Courtenay said, standing up. ‘I have duties that need attending to.’

‘Right,’ Hal said. He took the pear and knife from Courtenay and gestured at Edward. ‘Sit down. You look awful.’

Edward sank down beside Hal and did not know what to say. He did not feel distressed as such, but that dismay had filled his stomach. He had not enjoyed Christmas since 1398 and now he had reason to dread it.

‘Constance finally worked out that the best way to annoy me is to accept my invitation to stay with us at Christmas.’

Hal cursed, then said, ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope for a sudden crisis to force us to stay in Wales this Christmas?’

‘Maybe if you sent Glendower a very nice letter asking to invade, he might indulge us.’

Hal laughed and carved a slice off the pear, handing it to Edward. Edward ate it, the sweet juiciness welcome in his mouth. Hal turned and called for wine.

‘I think you have it worse than I do, though,’ Hal said. ‘At least my father still pretends he doesn’t actively wish I’d – well, been born after Thomas at the very least.’

Edward nodded and put an arm around Hal’s shoulder. He did not let himself think too much about Hal’s relationship with Henry, but it had been clear for as long as Edward had known Hal that it was difficult. The wine came and cups were poured. Hal drained in his one large gulp while Edward lingered over it, the slightly bitter taste welcome after the sweetness of the pear.

‘Do you remember the wine Richard used to serve in the cold months?’ Edward asked. ‘Warm and spiced. Nothing ever tastes the same.’

‘I do,’ Hal said. ‘I remember – the first time I had it, I told him I wasn’t allowed unwatered wine. He said watering it would ruin the wine.’

‘He was right,’ Edward said. ‘I have tried having it replicated but it never tastes quite right.’

Hal nodded and leant his head against Edward’s shoulder and Edward drew him closer. It was another loss, another ache.

‘You can always spend Christmas with the royal court,’ Hal said. ‘With me.’

Edward tried to imagine it. He did not think Henry liked or trusted him – though it was fair to say that Henry trusted very few people these days – but he would accord Edward the respect due to the Duke of York. It was also fair to say that Edward had little affection for Henry. Henry’s second son, Thomas, did not like Edward either and seemed to think he was a strange and sad old man. And, of course, being there would mean that he would have to invite Constance and there was a risk he would have to endure both Henry and Constance at the same time.

‘Will Thomas be there?’

‘Undoubtedly. I have no hope of convincing him to actually _go _to Ireland and do his duties. Why?’

‘He thinks – he doesn’t like me.’

‘Well, he is an idiot.’

Edward laughed, then sobered. ‘I can’t. I’d have to invite Constance with me and I neither want to endure that or a Christmas with both your father and my sister.’

Hal shuddered. ‘Oh that would be – that’s _terrible._ Forget I said anything.’

Edward sighed. He did feel better for at least sharing his misery. It would only be for two weeks, at most, and then he would be free of Constance and then, soon, back to working with Hal.

‘I know what we should do,’ Hal said. ‘The week before – go to Tewkesbury and hunt. Keep the retinue small and just enjoy ourselves before we go off to our doom.’

Edward thought it over. It would be nice, to have a week where all he had to do was hunt and talk. Like a draft of strong wine before facing the most dreadful thing.

‘Yes. Yes. If you can get away—’

‘I’ll make sure of it. If I have to spend two weeks with my father and brothers – God.’ Hal’s eyes widened.

‘So it’s not just Thomas you’re fighting with?’

‘Oh, well – we’re all pretty miserable at the moment. Thomas and I are fighting, John feels overworked and underappreciated, and I suspect he’s lonely. And Humphrey has nothing to do besides listening to our father’s conspiracies and complaints. And, of course, I can’t do anything for them because then Father accuses me of interfering and – you don’t need to listen to all of this.’

‘If it helps, I don’t mind – rant all you want.’

Hal laughed and began carving up the pear again. ‘You just want me to distract you from your woeful sister with my woeful brothers.’

‘You caught me,’ Edward said.

*

It was his turn to be found and this time by Courtenay. He was trying to read in his room where one of his attendants announced that Courtenay wished to see him and soon Courtenay was there, right in front of him, and Edward’s hands were shaking. He pressed them against his legs as Courtenay bowed, full of courtesy, and then dismissed his attendants, saying he wished for a private conversation.

‘Are you alright?’ Courtenay said. ‘You looked upset, earlier.’

‘I’m fine. It was just – a childish impulse. My sister will be spending Christmas with us.’

Courtenay nodded, then pulled a face – he obviously knew who Constance was and why Edward would be upset about her presence. He sat down on the floor beside Edward’s leg, laid his hand over Edward’s knee.

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘You could come with me, I suppose,’ Edward said, without meaning it. Courtenay would have already made his plans, probably with his own family or with Hal, and he knew if Courtenay came, both Philippa and Constance would be far too curious for his liking.

‘I would if I could.’

‘I know.’ Edward sighed and reached down, cupping the back of Courtenay’s head, feeling the curling silk of his hair. ‘I don’t want to think about it.’

‘I can stay,’ Courtenay said. ‘I don’t have anything to do this afternoon.’

Edward nodded. He looked down at Courtenay, studied his eyes, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Sun was in his hair, the gold of it shining. He wanted, he thought, so many things and a great deal of them were impossible. But Courtenay was not. He was young and beautiful and willing. With a few moves, he could be on his knees between Edward’s thighs or standing naked before Edward, glorious in the sunlight. Edward licked his lips.

‘When did you meet Hal?’ he asked.

‘God,’ Courtenay said. ‘Years and years ago. He looked older because he was so tall, you know.’

Edward nodded. He wondered where they had met, _years and years ago. _He felt detached from his body, from the world. He thought again of asking Courtenay for sex, but then realised that if he did, Courtenay would see him in the day’s light. There would be no forgiving shadows. He could imagine himself on his belly, how his backside would look to Courtenay – large and pale, the flesh quivering – and nausea turned his stomach.

‘Come,’ Courtenay said. ‘I don’t think staying here is doing you any good.’

‘Fresh air to cure all ills?’ Edward said. ‘I don’t think you’d make a good physician.’

‘Good thing I have no intention of being one.’

Courtenay moved to his feet smoothly and held out his hand. Edward stared at it, wondering if Courtenay would stay if he refused, if Courtenay really wanted his company. He had come here of his own accord and had remained affectionate. Kind. He would not be so if he was only here sop his conscience. He took Courtenay’s hand, felt the warmth of it against his dry, cold palm and smiled.

*

It was quite warm, outside. The sun was shining and the air still. They had ridden fast enough that the air felt cold whipping against their faces, then stopped to hobble the horses and walk amongst a grove of trees with shades of red, amber and gold amongst their branches, and the fallen leaves had browned and crunched beneath their feet. Yet there was no wet, sweet smell of decay that lingered in the air and there was no sound but for their feet and the birds.

Edward felt more himself, more attached to his body, and his body was warm and content. He glanced around, satisfying himself that they were alone, and caught Courtenay’s hand, pulling Courtenay close. He caught Courtenay’s face in his hands and kissed him.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

Courtenay seemed briefly amused and then sobered, hugging Edward tight. He pulled back and cupped Edward’s face before leaning in to kiss him again. Edward leant into it, resting his hands on Courtenay’s hips. He knew it was not real – at least not in the way he wanted it to be. Courtenay was not Richard, Courtenay did not love him and Edward was glad for that – he did not think that he would know what he would do if Courtenay did love him the way he had loved Richard. But it was comfort and care.

‘I,’ he said, and then stopped, unsure what would come next. His eyes swept down to the sight of his hands, large and white against the dark colours of Courtenay’s clothes. He thought of the callouses on his hands from a lifetime of learning how to joust and fight, but rarely doing it outside the arena. There was a faint scar across one knuckle where his hand had been sliced open during his adolescent training.

He let go of Courtenay, backed away. Courtenay frowned at him. He was beautiful and he was with Edward. Had Hal sent him or did he come himself, try to cheer Edward up out of his own will? He had sex with Edward out of his own will, but then perhaps there were limited choices here and, as a lover, Edward ranked only slightly higher than Courtenay’s own hand.

‘Why are you here?’

‘Why should I not be here?’ Courtenay said. ‘You’re my friend – Hal didn’t send me, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Edward shook his head. He wanted to accept it, but he saw now that it was too brief. When Courtenay found someone younger and attractive – he would not want to be with Edward forever. And, of course, Edward couldn’t blame him. They were not in love and Courtenay was young and beautiful and Edward was – was not.

Courtenay reached for him, took his hand. His fingers were warm and dry.

‘Where does this end?’ Edward asked.

He did not mean to – he had not even thought of it _ending _(though, of course, he had known it would always end). Was it only while they were here? While there was someone more worthy of Courtenay than Edward? There were many lovers in his past, all discarded now. It didn’t matter the reason. Edward must, at some point, become another.

Courtenay squeezed his hand. ‘When it stops being fun.’

‘What does that even mean?’ Edward heard his voice break and turned away from Courtenay, raising his hands to cover his face.

‘I don’t know,’ Courtenay said. ‘It’s – Edward, look at me.’

His voice was demanding. Edward obeyed without thinking. Courtenay looked – upset, but calm, his hand still outstretched towards Edward. They both looked at it, and then Courtenay let it fall to his side.

‘I don’t know,’ Courtenay said. ‘I don’t, Edward. When it hurts, when it becomes boring – God, I don’t know.’

Edward smiled weakly. ‘If you don’t know, how can I? I don’t even know why you want me.’

Courtenay moved forward, taking Edward’s shoulders in his hands. ‘I am really going to have to tie you up so I can tell you how attractive you are, aren’t I?’ Edward stared at him, Courtenay sighed. ‘You are a good, kind man who I count as my friend. _I enjoy your company. _I want you. It might not be love but we’re good together, aren’t we?’

Edward scoffed, Courtenay frowned at him.

‘Why can’t I want you?’

‘You don’t have to lie,’ Edward said. ‘I’m old and fat.’

‘Oh, I am definitely going to tie you up,’ Courtenay said. ‘Edward, you’re not old. You’re _thirty-six. _And, what, you’ve put on weight. It suits you.’

‘Liar.’

‘Not lying,’ Courtenay said. ‘Would it help if I told you that you’re neither the oldest nor heaviest person I’ve slept with? That I’m genuinely aroused by you?’

‘No – _what_?’

Courtenay grinned at him and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Edward’s shoulders. He led Edward to an enormous ash tree, then sat down the great roots and fallen, dying trees. Edward followed him, but Courtenay urged him to recline with his head on Courtenay’s lap and Edward wanted it too badly to refuse.

‘You want me to tell you?’

Edward bit his lip and then nodded. He raised one uncertain hand and then set it on Courtenay’s knee. He felt Courtenay’s hand move to stroke his hair.

‘I’ve been with a fair amount of people.’

‘I remember. No tally, though.’

‘No,’ Courtenay said. ‘I like variety, too – my uncle used to say that I’d try anything once, but I don’t think he quite meant – well. I can only imagine his face if he saw what I’ve gotten up to.’

Edward grinned. ‘Oh God, no.’

‘Exactly. But one of the men – he was fifty-eight, I think, if he’s still alive, he’d be even older.’

‘God! How old were you?’

‘Old enough that I should have known better,’ Courtenay said. ‘It was six, seven years ago. He was a blacksmith and I was stupid with lust. It was very – well. Quick and rough. I was sore for hours after. He called me a stupid boy, which I took great offence to.’

‘You wanted him?’

‘Yes,’ Courtenay said. ‘He was powerful and strong, with greying hair and he could have snapped me in half, but he only buggered me over his anvil.’

Edward covered his face in his hands and tried not to imagine it. He was not sure whether he wanted to be Courtenay or the blacksmith, but either way his cock was interested in the image, stirring. He tried to push his arousal down – they were outside, in full daylight. Courtenay laughed and, pulling Edward’s hands away from his face, ducked down and kissed him.

‘And the fat man?’ Edward said, trying to sound level but he was sure from the look of amusement on Courtenay’s face that he had failed.

‘That was – three years ago, I think. It was fun, but not nearly as salacious,’ Courtenay said. ‘We were in bed, for a start, and I think we were both very drunk the first time. Mainly just, you know, rubbed up against each other.’

‘The second time?’ Edward was not sure why he was asking. His face felt aflame, his mouth dry.

‘We were sober, in bed and it was the middle of the morning,’ Courtenay said. ‘He was not so keen on penetration – so we sucked each other.’

‘Oh,’ Edward said.

‘I probably should have led with that one, shouldn’t I? Not nearly as exciting. Still enjoyed it.’

His fingers stroked through Edward’s hair again, moved down the back of Edward’s neck and moved beneath his collar. Edward took Courtenay’s hand and held it to his lips.

‘Before we left, you wanted me – you wanted to have sex,’ Courtenay said. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

Edward shook his head, pulling away from Courtenay’s hand. ‘It was daylight.’

Courtenay was quiet, then sighed. He rested his arm over Edward’s chest and pulled him closer, squeezing him gently.

‘Silly,’ he said, his voice deceptively light. ‘I would have sex with you right here and now, completely naked, and enjoy it all the more for being able to see you.’

Edward said nothing, but pulled himself up enough to twist around and straddle Courtenay’s lap, cupping his face to kiss him. Courtenay’s mouth opened beneath his, his breath hot against Edward’s face, his tongue curling around Edward’s.

‘Let’s go back,’ Edward said, when the kiss ended, his forehead pressed against Courtenay’s. ‘Your room. You’re always coming to mine.’

‘There’s more light in my room,’ Courtenay said. ‘I’ll see you. All of you.’

Edward swallowed and nodded. ‘That’s fine.’

*

Courtenay sent his servants away with a quick word and bolted the door behind them. Edward took his hat in his hand and looked around. Courtenay’s room was a little smaller than his own, instead of chairs by the hearth there is a table and a chair to serve as a desk. There were clear-glassed windows that filtered the afternoon sun through, light catching at the dust hanging in the air. The bed had not been disturbed, the blue hangings tied open. On the desk, there was a stack of books, parchment, inks, pens, and a jug of wine, cups beside it. Edward traced a finger over the cover of one book, glanced at a sheet of parchment with scribbled notes on it that he could not quite decipher, and then turned around.

‘Do you want wine?’ Courtenay asked.

‘I want you naked.’

Courtenay grinned at him, his cheeks dimpling. He swept off his hat and began to undress, fingers moving quickly over the fastenings. He did it matter-of-factly, without shame, embarrassment or awkwardness, and when he was naked, laid his clothes over the stool by the door and stretched.

‘Better?’

Where candlelight and firelight had flattered him in the night, daylight unmasked him. In this starker light, he was still beautiful, just different. His skin seemed paler, his body softer, and yet his easy grace carried it well.

‘Much.’

Edward crossed to Courtenay, took his face in his hands and kissed Courtenay, pressing him against the wall and reaching to grasp his buttocks. Courtenay made a pleased noise into Edward’s mouth, arching his back to press himself further into Edward’s hands. Then he pushed Edward away.

‘Now you.’

Edward nodded. His hands were shaking as he began to work on his clothes, his eyes kept coming back to rest on Courtenay. He was watching, but somehow he made it seem as if he was neither disinterested or too engrossed in the sight. Edward fumbled with his buttons and flushed – he was not often called on to remove his own clothes – but then Courtenay was there. He raised Edward’s chin with his fingers and kissed him gently, but firmly.

‘Let me,’ he said.

Courtenay stripped him efficiently, pausing only to card his fingers through Edward’s beard or hair and kiss him. He folded each article of clothing and placed on the chair next to his own and then turned to face Edward.

‘I think it’s a bit late for you to be hiding that, don’t you?’ Courtenay said, raising his brows. ‘I mean, you can if you want – but I’ve had it in my mouth. Amongst other places.’

Edward looked down. His hands were crossed over his groin. He blushed and moved his hands, letting them fall by his thighs. His fingers itched to curl in on themselves. Courtenay stepped forward and rested his warm hands on Edward’s shoulders, nuzzling against him.

‘You have nothing to be ashamed of,’ he said. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

He stepped back from Edward, let his eyes sweep over Edward’s body, his hands trailing. There was no flicker, no hesitation in his expression – it remained affectionate and appreciative. Edward looked down. His skin, where it had been hidden from the sun, was white, his belly was soft and ample, dark hair growing in a line from his navel to his penis, and his pink nipples sat on slight hills of flesh.

‘Beautiful,’ Courtenay said firmly, and kissed him.

‘Are you—’ Edward panted into Courtenay’s mouth, clutched at him. ‘Are you going to – tie me up to prove it?’

Courtenay drew back, his eyes studying Edward’s face, then he grinned. He began to walk Edward backwards, towards the bed. When the backs of his knee hit the mattress, Courtenay pushed him down. The mattress bounced beneath him and he turned, crawling up on it. The hangings, though open, blocked some of the light, and cast faint shadows. Courtenay knelt beside Edward’s body, bent to kiss him.

‘If it’s too much,’ he said, ‘tell me.’

Edward nodded dumbly. He raised a hand and curled it in Courtenay’s hair, drew him down to kiss. When they parted, Courtenay rested his forehead against Edward’s, kissed him lightly, taking his hand and laying it against one of the bedposts and tying it there with a strip of torn velvet that he had fished out of a small box. Edward wondered why he had it, if he regularly tied his bed partners up, and then decided he’d prefer not to know.

‘Your hands,’ Courtenay said, breath warm against Edward’s palm, ‘are strong and sure. I like them touching me, holding me.’

He kissed Edward’s palm, then the place where Edward’s pulse thudded in his wrist, hair trailing coolly over his hands. Edward’s breath came fast, watching as Courtenay took his other hand and moved to tie it, the velvet black and stark against his skin. He dipped his head and Edward jerked, biting back a moan as he felt Courtenay’s lips wrap around his index finger and sink down on it as surely as he would if sucking a cock. He pulled back and ran his tongue over Edward’s knuckles.

Edward’s cock was already hard and twitching when Courtenay kissed his lips again, licking into his mouth. Courtenay’s hair fell in a veil of Edward’s face, the gold of it was caught in the light of the sun and gleamed brightly. He tugged half-heartedly against the ties, wanting to pull Courtenay down onto him, to push things to go faster.

‘I like your mouth,’ Courtenay said. ‘Your lips are generous and soft. When you smile, you look so beautiful, so happy. Your eyes are gorgeous – I’ve tried to count the gold flecks in them, but I never manage to do it.’

Edward smiled. He could not quite believe it, but he leaned up into the next kiss. His hands tugged against their bindings – he did not want to be released as such, but he wanted to be able to _touch _Courtenay, to pull him close and plunder his mouth with kisses. And, most likely, silence him.

Courtenay’s hands stroked over his face and hair, fell down to his shoulders, as Courtenay inched his way down, trailing kisses down Edward’s throat and neck. When he reached the base of it, he ran his tongue over Edward’s collarbones and looked up at him.

‘I like your neck too,’ Courtenay says. ‘It’s good to kiss.’

‘Even with the beard?’

Courtenay bit his lip in a futile effort to stop himself from laughing. ‘Well. I like the beard. It suits you. And it’s not _too _wild.’

Courtenay’s hands swept down, his fingers circling Edward’s nipples before his tongue laved over them, then his fingers lightly pinched them. Edward gasped, head falling back and cock throbbing. He felt his buttocks clench as Courtenay reached his belly, the sense of unease rising in him. Courtenay laid his face against Edward’s belly, fingers trailing through the dark hair.

‘Edward,’ he said firmly. ‘I like looking at you. Like seeing you naked. You’re so gorgeous, Edward.’

‘No,’ he said, gulping on the word. ‘No, no.’

‘Yes.’

Courtenay said it so simply, so honestly, that Edward could think of nothing to say. He felt the pleasure of his body as if from a distance, his cock heavy and twitching, Courtenay’s hands so close to it, his head a warm weight against Edward’s belly.

‘You – I look at you,’ Courtenay said, ‘and I see someone who has lived. I see your kindness, your regard – yes, you’re not as young as you used to be, but neither am I or anyone else. And you’re still gorgeous.’

Edward shook his head and Courtenay turned, raising himself on his elbows to stare at Edward.

‘You _are._’ He grinned. ‘Face it, Edward, you’re a very pretty man.’

Edward bit his lip but could not find it in himself to argue or even make a gesture of resistance. He was not at all sure he believed Courtenay, but he believed that Courtenay thought he was speaking the truth. Nothing Edward could say or do could dissuade him of the fact. It was frightening, but lovely.

Courtenay’s grin grew wider and he kissed Edward’s belly, ran his tongue over it to dip into Edward’s navel, before he lowered himself to rest between Edward’s thighs. His breath flowed hot over Edward’s cock and Edward clenched his hands into fists, nails driving into the flesh of his palms to stop himself from begging.

‘And this,’ Courtenay said, gripping the base of Edward’s penis. ‘I love this. In my mouth, in my hand, in _me_.’

Edward groaned, feet scrambling against the mattress his body tried to thrust into Courtenay’s hand. But Courtenay’s other arm came down to pin Edward’s writhing hips as his head lowered, his tongue flicking over the head of Edward’s cock. Edward cried out. The sensation was there, but barely – he wanted more, but he also didn’t want to come so soon. His body thrashed as Courtenay took him inside his mouth.

And then Courtenay pulled back and Edward groaned, collapsing back onto the bed to pant and pull at his bindings. Courtenay pushed himself up on his knees, leant over Edward and kissed him gently.

‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’s alright. We’ve got more to do.’

He sank back, urged Edward’s legs up and ran his hands down them before rubbing his cheek against Edward’s thigh.

‘Your legs are so powerful and strong,’ he said. ‘I like feeling them around me or working to fuck me. I like watching them.’

He kissed the crease of Edward’s thigh, then his knee, before his hands cupped Edward’s buttocks, squeezed gently. Edward made a strangled noise.

‘I like these as well,’ Courtenay said. ‘Perfectly round and firm. I want you like this, tied up for my pleasure, but I regret that I also can’t bend you over the bed and fuck you like that, to see what it looks like when I do.’

‘We,’ Edward managed to get out. He swallowed thickly. ‘We can do that another day.’

Courtenay grinned and lowered his head. Edward cried out, tugging at his bindings frantically as he felt Courtenay mouthing at his balls, tongue and lips working over them. He had never had anything like that done to him before. His cock jerked and leaked and heat flooded through his body.

Courtenay pulled back, sending him a wicked look though his face was flushed. He got up and Edward whined, following him with his eyes. If Courtenay left, if he got dressed and _left him, _he would die. But Courtenay only rounded the bed and knelt down, rummaging in the box he had taken the velvet strips from. When he drew out a small bottle of oil, Edward grinned, feeling sweat trickle down his forehead as Courtenay bent to kiss him before taking his place between Edward’s thighs again.

The brief pause had allowed Edward’s arousal to cool somewhat. He no longer felt as on edge and he was able to watch as Courtenay slicked his fingers before his eyes fluttered closed as he felt Courtenay’s fingers circle his hole and push inside. He groaned loudly, pushed back on them. His body took them easily, opening up to be invaded, and when it was time, he watched as Courtenay lined up his cock and slowly pushed inside. Edward’s head fell back, his mouth opening in a breathless, voiceless cry as he was filled.

When Courtenay was in him, his balls resting against Edward’s buttocks, he paused, shaking with the effort to remain still.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ Edward babbled. ‘You can go, you can go.’

Courtenay shook his head. ‘And I love this. You’re so tight and responsive and – I don’t _know, _but it’s good, Edward, so good. Like you. Every part, every inch – it’s beautiful and good and I hate how you can’t, _won’t_ see it.’

His voice broke and he lowered himself down enough to grasp at Edward with his hands, to kiss him desperately and hold him as he began to rock in and out of Edward slowly. Their breaths came in ragged little gasps as they moved together.

‘And, of course, it’s not _just _about your looks,’ Courtenay said, drawing back enough to speak. ‘You’re so good, Edward. Clever and smart and beautiful and kind – you deserve so much, Edward.’

Edward surged up as far as his bonds would let him and Courtenay responded, crushing their mouths together. His hands reached out and plucked at the knots in the bindings, freeing Edward’s hands. Edward at once wrapped his arms around Courtenay, clinging to him as they moved together.

The sound of their coupling was loud. The slap of Courtenay’s hips against Edward’s buttocks, their jagged, gasping breaths, Courtenay’s hand working Edward’s cock, and the wet sounds of their joining and their kisses. Edward was whimpering or groaning, Courtenay grunting with the effort of fucking him forcefully.

‘Let go for me,’ Courtenay said. ‘Please, just let go.’

Edward opened his mouth as Courtenay’s hand tightened. He screamed, or came close to it, and the heat and pressure in him release, his hands digging into Courtenay’s shoulder and waist hard enough to bruise. Seed jerked and spread over his belly and chest. Distantly, he felt Courtenay reach his climax with a long, low groan, his head falling to rest against Edward’s shoulder.

They were both gasping. It was all he could hear, besides the pounding of his heart against his ribs. He wanted to let go of Courtenay and drag his hands into Courtenay’s hair, but could not find the strength. He felt like he did the end of a long hunt, exhausted and yet content – as though the world had steadied and his depression had been beaten back.

When Courtenay went to pull out, Edward clutched at him.

‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘Just a little longer. Please. Give me that.’

‘Of course,’ Courtenay said. He raised his head and kissed Edward gently and sweetly.

*

They did not end up going on the night-time excursion they had planned. It drizzled in the evening and seemed to be settling in, and Edward was glad because he did not think he had the strength to pin Courtenay against a tree and fuck him. So they delayed their plans for another night and retired to Edward’s bed, which was warm and dry.

‘What do you want?’ Courtenay asked, tracing a line down Edward’s bicep. ‘I’ll give you anything.’

Edward caught Courtenay’s hand and used it to pull him close enough to kiss. He thought of a lot of things – they had bedded each other so often over the past days and yet there was always more he wanted to do. Some of the things were impossible – he was too tired, it was still drizzling – but then he smiled.

‘You shouldn’t tempt me,’ he said. ‘I might ask for something horrible, or something you don’t want to do.’

Courtenay’s smile was rueful. ‘Oh, I doubt that.’

He kissed Edward and pressed him into the soft mattress. Edward grinned into the kiss, running his fingers through Courtenay’s hair.

‘Well, in that case, seeing as though you have the advantage of youth—’

Courtenay’s brows shot up and his lips pursed. Edward shook his head, gesturing for Courtenay to stay silent.

‘I would like you to – to.’ Edward’s cheeks flushed with brilliant heat and he bowed his head, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘To, uh, prepare yourself – you know, with fingers – while I watch. And then – ride me.’

Courtenay grinned gleefully. ‘Oh Edward,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to try harder to shock me.’

‘I don’t want to,’ Edward said, stroking a hand down Courtenay’s flank. ‘I just don’t want to ask you something you don’t want to do.’

Courtenay took Edward’s hand and kissed it, his eyes tender as he laid it against his heart. Edward’s fingers traced over the span of his ribs, dipped in the gaps between bone, his thumb reaching to trace an areole of his nipple.

‘I know,’ Courtenay said. ‘You’re a good man.’

He kissed Edward again, laid down on top of him. His hands framed Edward’s face as their kiss deepened. Courtenay tasted of the spiced wine served at dinner and smelt of mint from his bath. Edward stroked back Courtenay’s hair, held it loosely as his other hand reached down to grope his buttocks, pulling him closer so their stiffening cocks rocked against each other, the touch heated, like lightning in his blood.

‘How do you want me to do it?’ Courtenay said. ‘Do you want to see my face?’

Edward bit his lips. ‘As much of you as I can.’

Courtenay nodded decisively and they moved. Edward pushed down the covers and lay across the foot of the bed as Courtenay fetched the oil and sat up against the headboard, pillows cushioning him as he positioned himself, legs spread. He slicked his fingers watching Edward and reached down, one hand cupping his cock and balls as the other reached down and traced over his entrance.

Edward bit his lip, his own cock throbbing, and moaned.

‘Go slowly,’ he said.

‘Bossy,’ Courtenay said, cheeks red and grin teasing.

‘You said whatever I want,’ said Edward.

Courtenay’s grin widened. ‘I know, I know.’

Gradually, Courtenay’s finger drifted from the rim of his hole to the centre and began to press in. Edward’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, his hands absentmindedly caressing his own body as Courtenay’s finger sank down to the knuckle and a gasp punched out of Courtenay’s throat.

He eased it out, then slowly pushed it in again, his eyes fluttering shut. He was beautiful, his skin golden in the fire’s light, and his eyes lidded with pleasure. As he worked his finger in and out, his head fell back against the pillow. It came to Edward he could ask Courtenay to do anything and he would do it. He didn’t want to, though – this was enough.

‘Add another.’

Courtenay slipped his finger out, slicked his fingers again, and then pressed two inside himself, his hole swallowing them greedily. Edward swallowed, hand dropping to grasp his own cock and squeeze.

‘You better – better not spend before I’m riding you.’

‘I won’t,’ said Edward. ‘But you can’t blame me – you’re so—’

He shook his head, not sure how to describe Courtenay. _Beautiful, _yes, but more than that – beauty did not always run hot in his veins, did not make his cock ache with the urge to pin Courtenay down and possess him.

‘Add another,’ he said.

Courtenay pressed a third finger to his entrance, worked it inside with a low moan. He fucked himself slowly, his cock leaving wet smears on his belly. Edward watched, mouth dry and knew he could not wait any longer.

‘Now,’ he said.

They moved again, Edward lying against the pillows and slicking his cock as Courtenay straddled him. Courtenay reached behind himself to hold Edward’s penis steady as he lowered himself down. Edward’s hands caught on his hips, his own thighs shaking as his cock was slowly enveloped by the heat and tightness of Courtenay’s body.

‘You’re so tight,’ he said, a strangled moan cutting off the rest of what he would say – a babble of _you’re tight, you’re so tight_.

Courtenay leant forward, resting his hands on Edward’s shoulders. Edward could feel the muscles in Courtenay’s buttocks and thighs clenching as he rocked on Edward’s prick. He kissed Edward, nipping at his lips, and then began to move.

After the slow display Courtenay had given him, Edward was too close to want it drawn out and Courtenay seemed to understand, setting a punishing pace. He rose and fell on Edward’s cock, their bodies slapping together and sweat gleaming over his skin. Edward’s fingers bit down into Courtenay’s hips, his voice rising as he slammed up into him until he came with a sharp cry. He wrapped his hand around Courtenay’s penis and worked it until he spilled himself over Edward’s chest and slumped down, panting and exhausted, to kiss him messily.

When their breath returned to them, they drew the sheets up around themselves and slept.

*

The drizzle turned into rain that was heavier each time Edward woke in the night. He knew they would not be having their nocturnal adventure anytime soon. Even so, he enjoyed listening to rain and snuggling closer to Courtenay, still half-asleep. In the early morning, they curled their bodies closer still and touched each other, too lazy to do anything more, until they came and slept again.

In the afternoon, the rain was well and truly set in. Edward convinced Courtenay to leave his work and come to the solar, where a fire was burning and musicians were playing. Courtenay sat and flicked through a book, occasionally turning to Edward to read a passage aloud or to show him an illustration. When Hal came in, he was wet from being out in the rain.

‘So there you are,’ he said and stalked forward, crouching down in front of the fire and holding his hands out. ‘It’s freezing outside.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have been out there for so long,’ Courtenay said. ‘And you should take your wet clothes off.’

‘What, you want me to wander about in my skin?’

Hal’s grin seemed pained and his voice falsely cheerful. Edward worried, standing up and unsure whether he should go to Hal.

‘Perhaps I was drawn here by the sound of music and the promise of a warm fire?’ Hal said.

‘You should have put on dry clothes first,’ Edward said. He gestured for a servant to bring hot wine for Hal, something that would banish away the undoubtedly bone-deep chill the dousing had given him.

Hal’s eyes darted between them, then he grinned. ‘Oh no,’ he groaned. ‘The two of you combining your forces to worry after me. I’m doomed.’

‘Between us,’ Courtenay said, ‘we might even get you to eat two decent meals a day.’

‘But first, you need to dry-off.’

‘Alright, alright, you win – I’ll go and get changed.’ Hal stood up and looked between them again, mischief sparkling in his eyes. ‘Anyone would think you both wanted to be rid of me.’

Edward’s mouth went dry. Hal was joking, he knew, but what if, beneath the humour, he truly believed that. He couldn’t make a fuss without being accused of not having a sense of humour, but maybe he could somehow make a joke that reassured Hal in some way.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t have enough money to replace you with more dogs.’

Hal snorted. ‘Does that mean you won’t be able to feed me once I run out of money? I was pinning my hopes on you adopting me as a stray dog.’

Edward’s heart twisted, but he managed a smile. ‘Well, I think I can manage you. You don’t eat as much, do you? At least, not as much as the dogs I’d have to replace you with.’

‘But he won’t if you don’t go and get changed _now. _You’re dripping everywhere,’ said Courtenay.

‘I’ll go and be a very good dog, then.’

Hal grinned and darted forward to hug Edward. Edward recoiled without meaning to – Hal was cold and wet – before Hal drew back and left. Edward sat down, looking around the room. The musicians were still playing, the fire was still burning and the book was still open in Courtenay’s lap.

‘Did I just imagine Hal coming in here?’ he said.

‘The damp patches on your clothes say no,’ said Courtenay. ‘By God, he’s an idiot and a half.’

His voice was fond, his smile warmer still. When he saw Edward studying him, he laughed and patted Edward’s arm, promising him that Hal would return soon and, when he did, they would have more fun. Between them, they would teach Edward how to win at chess and then play at dice or have a book read for them.

*

It had been a good afternoon and by the time Edward was readying himself for bed, he had found himself smiling without good cause. He wondered if this was what it meant to be happy again. Hal had been relaxed and funny, Courtenay full of good cheer and Edward had not sat on the edges, playing witness to their comradery, but been fully invested in their conversation. Hal had sat beside him and whispered moves and advice until Edward had captured Courtenay’s king and won. Courtenay had asked him about his dogs and then shown rapt attention when Edward talked about the book he was working on and Hal had made him send a servant to fetch some pages to read to them.

He slipped beneath the covers, pulled them up to his throat, and waited for Courtenay to arrive. When he did, he was warm and eager in bed, and if the sex that night was not particularly fierce, it was still satisfying. Edward laid on his side, his back against Courtenay’s chest, and Courtenay held him secure as he fucked Edward languidly, kissing the back of his neck and shoulders until they both came.

On the verge of sleep, his face against Courtenay’s chest, Edward thought of how good the day had been. It would not last – it never did – but he had been happy.

*

Edward woke in darkness, feeling the bed shift. He rolled over, raising a hand over his eyes and squinted. Courtenay was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face barely illuminated by the glow of the still-burning fire. At first, Edward thought he was getting up to empty his bladder and closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep. But time stretched on and Courtenay did not stand up. Edward opened his eyes again. Courtenay had not moved except to cover his face with his hands. Something was wrong.

The day had been so good, though – why would Courtenay be out of sorts now? He thought back on his own behaviour, wondered if he had offered insult or injury in some way. But there was nothing he could think of. He pushed himself up on his elbow.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said.

Courtenay took a sharp intake of air and shook his head, shoulders drawing up. ‘Nothing. I’m just – a little warm. Couldn’t sleep.’

Edward’s frown deepened: it was a cool night. His own exposed skin had pimpled in the air. He sat up and rested his hand on Courtenay’s shoulder. It felt cold.

‘It’s more than that,’ he said. ‘Tell me.’

‘It’s silly,’ Courtenay said. ‘That’s all it is – silly. I’m fine, really. I’m even _happy. _There’s no reason to worry.’

Edward nodded. He kissed Courtenay’s shoulder, felt him shudder, and wondered what it was that had upset them. If nothing that had happened during the day, then what? Was it something in his past?

‘You’ve listened to my troubles often enough,’ Edward said. ‘Silly though they were. Why don’t you tell me yours?’

‘Because,’ Courtenay said. ‘Your troubles are real. Mine are not.’

‘Tell me.’

Courtenay sighed and laid back down, letting Edward draw him close. If he hoped that would satisfy Edward, he was wrong. Edward hugged him tight and urged him again. Courtenay sighed.

‘I’m just – pining_._’ He sounded disgusted at the word. ‘I refuse to – I tell myself that I don’t care, that it doesn’t matter – but I still want what I don’t have.’

Edward stroked his hand along Courtenay’s back, felt how rigid it was. Edward understood what Courtenay meant, he remembered feeling the same before Richard and he had become lovers. It was a dreadful kind of ache. His whole life, even now, was Richard, but then it was a torment, to be so close to Richard, to see him, to want him and not be allowed to touch him. Of course, he had tried to comfort himself. He had been the favoured cousin, the only family still alive that Richard actually seemed to like. That, he had told himself, was enough. But it wasn’t.

It was not enough until Richard wanted him the same way Edward wanted him, but then, everything else went wrong. At least, for a few years, he had been blissfully happy.

‘You know, years ago,’ Courtenay said. His voice was very quiet. ‘When I was young and very stupid, I used to watch you with King Richard. I could see how much you loved each other – please don’t think I was spying on you. It was just the way you’d look at each other in the middle of something, or talk with your heads bent together. Like you were looking at the only other person who _mattered_.’

Edward’s heart hurt. He did not think he could feel his hands or any part of him but his thudding heart.

‘You loved each other so much,’ said Courtenay. ‘And I was stupid enough to think that something like that was possible for me. I wished I could have something like that.’ He stopped, inhaled sharply, and then added, very quietly, ‘I still do, sometimes.’

Edward saw his hand moving over Courtenay’s back in a mockery of comfort. He could not think. His body was encased in ice, and Courtenay was still talking.

‘I hate that I think, what if this is all I’ll ever have? Because what does it matter if it is? I’m _happy. _I like being with you, I like my friends, I like what I’m doing. It’s enough.’

Courtenay went silent. He sat up and Edward’s hand fell to the mattress. He still could not feel it. Courtenay’s eyes were narrowed as they watched Edward, then he shook his head.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t – I didn’t mean to say all – _any_ – of that. I knew it was wrong, knew it would upset you. Sorry.

He stopped, waiting for Edward to reply. Edward could not.

‘I’ll go,’ he said, beginning to move off the bed. ‘I’ll get someone – I don’t think you should be alone, but I shouldn’t be here.’

No. No. Courtenay should not go. If he went – no. Edward caught at his arm, pulling him down and pinning him to the bed. He felt his body again, blood surging with his veins.

‘What did you say?’

Courtenay stared up at him, eyes wide. Edward felt his fingers curling into the flesh, as if they could bore down into bone.

‘What did you say?’

‘I – I’m sorry? That I should go?’

‘No,’ Edward said. ‘About Richard and me. That we – we.’

He swallowed. He couldn’t say it.

‘That you loved each other? So much?’

Edward nodded.

‘Say that again.’

‘You loved each other so very much.’

He swallowed. He felt warm all over. _You loved each other so very much._ That love still burnt within him. But no one had seen it – to others, he had always been another sycophant using Richard for his own advancement, another of Richard’s frivolous bedpartners. They saw him as committing a filthy, shameful thing for his own benefit, not knowing how much he loved Richard, and how pure that love was.

But there was more than that. _You loved each other so very much. _Each other. Courtenay had seen that _Richard _had loved _Edward, _and he did not think Courtenay saw a difference, did not think Richard had loved him any less than Edward loved Richard even now.

‘Richard loved me.’

‘Yes.’

‘You saw that?’

‘Yes. You did not?’

Edward shrugged. His grip on Courtenay slowly relaxed, his fingers felt tight and sore, and he felt distantly horrified that he had likely hurt Courtenay, perhaps even frightened him, by holding him so tight.

‘I did see it myself,’ he said. ‘But sometimes it’s hard to remember what is memory and what was just – dreams. Delusions.’

Courtenay nodded, hand reaching up to cup Edward’s cheek. Edward moved to let him up.

‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘If you go, things – things will be bad. I’ve been so – so happy with you. Don’t let me ruin this now.’

Courtenay nodded. His face was placid and beautiful and when he sat up, he only reached for Edward and held him close, his hands sweeping over Edward’s back.

‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’s alright. I won’t go.’

*

Edward did not sleep well. He was too warm, too thrilled with the knowledge that someone had seen and recognised his and Richard’s love – seen it for the pure thing it was, not some filthy sodomitical act. And, when he pushed that aside, he remembered that he pinned Courtenay to the bed and not let him leave when he wanted. Courtenay had not seemed particularly frightened or in pain, but Edward did not trust his own memories. They were covered in fog and what he remembered best was the beat of his own heart.

Courtenay slept curled on his side, facing Edward – he did not seem wary, nor had he been after Edward had let him go. Carefully, Edward sat up, peered over Courtenay’s shoulder to check if he had injured him. There were no scratches, no scabs, but there were patches of red that would turn to bruises within a day or two. Edward settled back down gingerly, staring up above himself, the hangings drawn and held his breath until he was sure he had not disturbed Courtenay’s sleep.

The sun was rising when Courtenay stirred, rolling closer to Edward and resting his head over Edward’s chest.

‘Morning,’ Edward said, though he thought the word would not come.

‘You sound awful,’ Courtenay said, pressing closer.

‘I didn’t sleep well,’ Edward said. ‘What about you? Did you—?’

Courtenay kissed Edward’s chest. ‘Mm. Fairly deeply. I am sorry, you know – I never meant to say anything like that to you.’

‘No,’ Edward said. ‘No. I was glad to hear it, in the end. It was reassuring – that someone had _seen_ and _known. _I mean, what we do – people always think of it as something dirty, and it wasn’t like that.’

‘I know,’ Courtenay said. ‘It makes perfect sense.’

Edward bit his lip and laid his arm over Courtenay’s shoulder. His teeth dug deeper into his lip.

‘I hurt you, last night,’ he said.

Courtenay blinked and looked up at him. ‘What? You mean when you held me down?’

‘I am sorry.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Courtenay said. ‘You were upset, I’ve had worse just by knocking my elbow against the wall.’ Courtenay leant up and kissed him gently, cupping Edward’s face in his hands. ‘If you feel really guilty,’ he murmured, ‘you could always make it up by fucking me.’

‘I don’t think I can do that,’ Edward said. ‘I _hurt _you.’

Courtenay sighed, resting his forehead against Edward’s. Nothing more was said for a while, then Courtenay sighed again and pinched Edward’s arm sharply. Edward yelped and stared up at him, bewildered. Where had _that _come from?

‘Now we’re even,’ Courtenay said. ‘You didn’t mean to and there’s no harm done.’

‘I still can’t – do as you ask,’ Edward said. ‘Not now.’

‘Later, though?’ Courtenay asked. ‘Or never again? Because if it’s the latter, you will have to explain to Hal why you have to drag me out of your bed. And once he gets past the sodomy, he’ll call you a fool.’

Edward laughed. He didn’t mean to, but he did. He reached out and drew Courtenay to him again.

‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’

Courtenay snorted, kissed Edward quickly. ‘It’s for your own good.’

‘Not now,’ Edward said. ‘I didn’t sleep well enough to do it properly.’

‘At least that’s a sensible excuse,’ Courtenay said.

‘Thanks,’ Edward said. He reached out and stroked Courtenay’s hair back from his face, cupped his face. He was lucky, he supposed, that Courtenay seemed to think his panic was more amusing and frustrating than anything else. ‘I do owe you.’

‘Yes,’ Courtenay said. ‘You need to fuck me against a tree. But it’s still raining so I’ll wait.’

Edward shook his head. ‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’

‘Not until you’ve done it,’ Courtenay said. He kissed Edward quickly and then sat up, stretching and then laughing when Edward could not resist running his hand over his side. ‘Come. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you? You can get some more sleep.’

‘No,’ Edward said. But he felt a dull sense of dread that Courtenay would leave him. He reached for Courtenay’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Stay?’

Courtenay’s brows raised and he looked at Edward with some consideration, before lying down beside him again. He laid his hand over Edward’s chest and, after a moment’s hesitation, Edward placed his hand over it.

‘I have to go back to Oxford soon,’ Courtenay said, and Edward nodded. He had no right to expect any differently and indeed he had known it would happen sometime or another. They all had important duties, places where they were needed. It did not mean anything other than that. But yet he did not want Courtenay to leave. Could not help but feel the darkness of loneliness and solitude well up around him again.

‘When?’

‘End of the month.’

‘Does Hal know?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s better when you’re here,’ Edward said, almost pleading. _I’m better when you’re here. _He was not so lonely, did not dwell on his losses as much, and Hal was brighter, more at ease – he did not wear that horrible pinched, sullen look. He shook his head, tried to stop himself for being so childish and petty. Courtenay could not stay. ‘Hal’s talking about having a hunt the week before Christmas. Will you be coming?’

‘I wish I was,’ Courtenay said. ‘I’ll not be seeing you until after Christmas.’

‘Oh.’

Courtenay rolled onto his side, pressed his lips against Edward’s shoulder. He did not say anything for a long moment, but his hand turned beneath Edward’s and their fingers wove together.

*

Edward could hear himself groaning, his eyes barely able to keep open and watch Courtenay’s golden head between his thighs, his hot mouth sometimes wrapped around Edward’s cock or working over Edward’s straining balls. He could taste Courtenay’s spend on his own tongue and knew that he would come as soon as Courtenay let him. He tugged at the silk bands tying his hands to the bedhead. He did not know what he’d do if he was free – touch himself until he came or force Courtenay to quit his games and keep his mouth on Edward’s cock. Cold air hit his penis as Courtenay pulled back and a foul curse burst out of his mouth before he could force it back.

Courtenay cocked a brow and wrapped his fingers around the base of Edward’s cock and squeezed, pulling an embarrassing whimper out of Edward’s throat.

‘I was thinking,’ Courtenay said, working Edward’s cock lazily. ‘Tonight?’

Edward blinked blearily, tugged harder on his bonds. He couldn’t think straight, did not know what Courtenay meant. Was he meant to stay here, hard and unsatisfied, until tonight?

‘It’s been days since it rained,’ Courtenay said. ‘The ground’s dried out and the moon’s almost full so it’ll be bright. Seems a good night for our adventure. What do you think?’

_Oh, oh. _Edward’s fingers tightened and he nodded, throat clicking. ‘Yes, God, yes. But don’t – don’t make me wait. Please don’t make me wait. I need to—’

‘Shh,’ Courtenay said. ‘I know.’

He bent his head again and swallowed Edward’s cock, throat pulsing around it, and Edward’s eyes slit shut, his mouth opening in a cry as he finally came.

*

Courtenay’s hand was warm in his, leading him on. Edward kept wanting to stop and laugh, feeling giddy as though he was a child again, sneaking down to the kitchen with a candle in his hand for some treat, listening to the low sounds of his mother talking into the night with her ladies. But it was different. His head kept falling back so he could look at the stars, so bright and clear in the sky, and the moon so full the night was bright. The air was cold, but it seemed to add more to the thrill, the giddiness, as if he was warm he would feel too much like himself.

They passed through the courtyard, past the gate – Edward did not know how he managed it so no one was there – and into the woods. Here, the trees cast long shadows and shielded them from the moon’s light. Courtenay stopped, crouching down to take his bag from his shoulder and light a candle.

The night was quiet, no wind to move through the branches and disturb the leaves. An owl hooted in the distance. Edward did not think he could dare disturb the silence.

‘Is it – can we talk?’ Edward whispered.

‘Of course,’ Courtenay said.

He got to his feet and offered Edward his hand again, the other holding the candle up so they could see their surroundings a little better, and they pushed on, pressing deeper into the forest.

‘If you see a tree you particularly fancy, let me know,’ Courtenay said.

‘Well, you too,’ Edward said, biting his lip. ‘I can hardly see anything – any tree would work, I think.’

Courtenay laughed, fingers tightening around Edward’s. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go a little further.’

The fallen leaves crunched beneath their feet, and Edward trusted – presumed, really – that Courtenay would know which paths they followed, that they wouldn’t get lost in the tangled twists of the forest and have to wait until morning to find their way out. He heard a bat take flight, wings flapping in the air, and jumped. Courtenay did not, walking on until they came to a small clearing, nothing more than a leaf-strewn patch of grass, the trunk of an old, fallen tree neatly bisecting it.

Edward swallowed, feeling weirdly anxious. He had wanted this, but now, with it in grasp, he felt stilted and uncertain, as if he had forgotten how to talk to Courtenay and how to touch him. Courtenay sat down on the log and carefully set the candle on the ground. He was beautiful, even in this gloom, chin barely illuminated, and Edward felt his hands shaking as he sat beside Courtenay.

‘Here,’ Courtenay said, rummaging through the bag he carried and handing Edward a wineskin.

Edward uncorked it, swallowed a mouthful. It was good, sweet wine and he found it comforting. They passed it back and forth between them, discussing the jousts that Hal wanted Edward to organise since the men seemed restless. Courtenay told him a funny story about one of the students at Oxford and before he could finish it, Edward was kissing him.

Courtenay’s face was cool beneath his hands, but his mouth was hot and restless against Edward’s. He tasted of wine and the spiced venison they had eaten for supper, and Edward thought he could get drunk just by licking into his mouth. Courtenay fell back under his assault but braced himself against the log to surge up again, gripping Edward’s shoulder to keep himself upright.

Edward pulled away first, panting. He hadn’t wanted to, but he needed to breathe. His cock was stiff in his hose and he pressed a hand to it, groaning. Courtenay gave a little laugh and kissed him quickly before standing up and disrobing. In the moonlight, he was even more beautiful, skin pale and gleaming, and he moved forward to kneel between Edward’s thighs, one hand moving to cup Edward’s cock and balls.

Edward knew what would happen next. Courtenay would suck him until he spent. He didn’t want that to happen – well, he _did, _Courtenay’s mouth should probably be considered a sin all on its own, it felt so good. But he did not want to spend so quickly.

He caught Courtenay’s hand.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not like that. I don’t want to – well, not like that, so soon.’

‘So what do you want?’

‘You, bent over this log,’ Edward said, then flushed violently. ‘I mean, if that’s alright with you – if you don’t, then it’s fine…’

Courtenay’s eyes brightened.

‘Edward? Never change.’

He pushed himself up, kissed Edward quickly and spread his cloak over the log before positioning himself as Edward asked. Edward ran a hand down his back, stroked his flank. It amazed him, how eager and willing Courtenay was, eager for anything – and everything – Edward could bring himself to confess to wanting.

He pulled Courtenay’s bag closer, fumbled in it until his fingers closed around the vial of oil. He spilt some over his fingers and pressed them against Courtenay’s hole. Courtenay jerked, a shiver wracking his body.

‘Richard?’ Edward said, panicked. ‘Are you—’

‘It’s _cold,_’ Courtenay said, almost a whine, and Edward bit back his grin.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’ll just—’

He pulled back and rubbed his fingers together, blowing on them for extra warmth – he should have realised, he supposed, but then, Courtenay was stretched out naked, and that was very distracting. He moved behind Courtenay, setting himself between Courtenay’s spread legs, and couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the base of Courtenay’s spine.

‘I think my hands are warmer now,’ he said.

‘Next time, we should wear gloves,’ Courtenay said. ‘Or we should only do this in the warmer months…’

Edward shook his head and ran his fingers down the crease of Courtenay’s buttocks, spreading them gently and circling his hole before pressing in. Courtenay gasped, body clenching before slowly relaxing. When Edward asked him if he was alright, he gave a jerking nod and said, _still a bit cold _which made them both laugh stupidly. But his flesh was hot around Edward’s fingers and as he worked Courtenay open, he pulled better sounds from Courtenay – moans and gasps. He leant forward, saw Courtenay’s face contorted, his teeth biting into his lip and eyes shut tightly, and then wrapped his hand around Courtenay’s cock, stroking it firmly and dragged a whimper out of him.

Edward’s own cock was throbbing, he wished for an extra hand so he could touch it without having to stop touching Courtenay. He gritted his teeth and focused on Courtenay, fucking him with his fingers until he began to plead to be allowed to come, his cock straining in Edward’s hand.

Then Edward eased his fingers out, fumbled to wipe them clean and undressed himself just enough to get his cock out. The air was cold on his heated flesh and he shuddered as he slicked himself, half-wondering how Courtenay could stand to be completely naked. He pressed the head of his cock to Courtenay’s hole, rested his chest against Courtenay’s back.

‘Ready?’

‘If you don’t fuck me right now,’ Courtenay said, fury leaching into every word, ‘I will kill you.’

Edward laughed and slowly pressed in, biting down on Courtenay’s shoulder at the feel of hot, slick flesh enveloping his cock. He stayed still a moment, pushing down the urge to spend himself at once, only beginning to move when Courtenay swore at him. Then he was shoving himself in and out, fingers biting down on Courtenay’s waist. He could hear the noises they were making, the breathy shouts, the slap of flesh on flesh, and then felt Courtenay’s hand reaching back to grasp his hip, fingers trembling.

He came before he had time to realise it was happening, held himself still, buried deep in Courtenay’s trembling body. He reached out, grasped Courtenay’s cock and stroked him until he came with a shout, his seed falling onto the ground.

*

Edward laid on the ground, staring up at the sky. Courtenay had tumbled off the log and wrapped himself in his cloak. It did not cover all of him; Edward could see a pale stretch of thigh and thought about licking it. But he was still struggling to breathe, his sweat turning to ice and he hadn’t even gotten naked. He tucked his cock away with fumbling hands. Was that it, then? Would they return and go to bed?

Edward didn’t want to. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and shuffled over, stroking a hand along Courtenay’s thigh the way he wanted to lick it. Courtenay laid his head on Edward’s chest and grinned up at him.

‘I don’t want to go back in,’ Edward said. ‘Not yet.’

‘Well, we don’t have to,’ Courtenay said. ‘And that, I’m afraid, does not count as fucking me against a tree.’

‘What do you mean, _afraid_?’

‘It _could _mean that I won’t let you leave until you do,’ Courtenay said.

Edward laughed and kissed him. ‘You’ll hold me hostage until I make good on my fantasy, you mean? I think I can cope with that.’

‘You better,’ Courtenay said. ‘It’s a cold night.’

‘You’re the one that’s naked.’

‘That’s my _point_.’

They were laughing again and Edward gathered Courtenay to himself, trying to keep him warm. He supposed Courtenay could have gotten dressed if he wanted to or could have stayed mostly dressed, but Edward liked whatever mad part of Courtenay had thought to strip down and stay undressed. It was something half-wild in him. Edward stroked a hand over Courtenay’s thigh, felt the soft, downy hair that grew there – hair that he knew in the full light of day was so blond it was almost invisible – and kissed him again.

‘Have you done this before?’ Edward asked and then wondered if he should.

Courtenay did not take offence but leaned up to kiss Edward. ‘No.’

‘I’m flattered, then,’ Edward said.

‘You should be.’

Courtenay laughed and tucked his head under Edward’s chin. Edward’s hand ran along his thigh again, reached his buttocks and squeezed. He could feel Courtenay’s skin prickling with the cold, the air like ice.

‘We should go back in,’ he said. ‘You’re freezing.’

Courtenay did not disagree. ‘We’ll come back another night,’ Courtenay said. ‘And you _will _fuck me against a tree. Or we can do it during the day.’

Edward nodded, pushing Courtenay towards his clothes, watched as he redressed himself and packed away the wineskin and blew out the candle. It made little difference, it only offered a small circle of soft light and the moonlight was bright enough that Edward could still see Courtenay distinctly. He reached out and touched Courtenay’s elbow, pulling him close.

‘I do appreciate this,’ he said. ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Well it was a good idea, you know. Even if we haven’t quite managed it.’

Edward kissed him, poured himself into it. He felt the stirrings of an idea but did not want to think about it too much, did not want to tell Courtenay – it should be a surprise. Courtenay would be alright with that, he knew – might even applaud him for taking the initiative.

‘We’ll manage it yet,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

They began to walk back along the path. Edward’s heart beat fast in his chest, his eyes focused on Courtenay’s back, his cock hardening as he thought about it. Courtenay seemed unaware, though Edward wouldn’t put it past him to only be pretending to be ignorant. He was beautiful, head tilted back to look up at the stars and moon – and they were so big and bright in the sky – before swinging around to point out an owl sitting in a tree or a fox skulking in the undergrowth.

Near the edges of the wood, Edward swung into action. He grabbed Courtenay’s arm, pulled it behind his back and used it to drive Courtenay off the path and towards the tree, shoving him against the wide trunk. Courtenay’s breath came hard and fast and Edward let go of his arm, using his own weight to Courtenay to the tree as his hands fumbled with the lacing of Courtenay’s hose, managing at last to jerk them down and reveal Courtenay’s rounded buttocks.

He leant forward then, sweeping Courtenay’s hair away from his neck to press hot, messy kisses to the chilled skin. His stomach lurched and he bit down, then soothed his tongue over the hurt flesh.

‘Alright?’ he asked.

Courtenay reached back to press the vial of oil into Edward’s hands. ‘Better than that.’

Edward grinned, slicking his fingers. ‘Good.’

‘I don’t need—’

Edward thrust two fingers inside Courtenay, enjoying the noise that punched out of Courtenay’s throat, the desperate plea that followed. His hole was tight but took a third finger easily, and Edward could feel his own spend still inside Courtenay and leaking out around his fingers.

‘Please, _please,_’ Courtenay said, breath whining. His fingers scrabbled against the bark, his hips pushed back on each careful shove Edward gave him with his fingers. With his free hand, Edward drew his cock out and slicked it clumsily, dropping the oil vial in his haste. It didn’t matter.

He pushed into Courtenay, tearing another of those desperate, loud noises from him, and held still. It was difficult – he wanted so much to move, to fuck into Courtenay and keep at it until he came. He was trembling and Courtenay was trembling, his flesh a hot, tight vice around his cock. He wanted to remember it; Courtenay’s face pressed against the tree, his body so welcoming, so perfect, and the fantasy that was even better than his imaginings.

Most of his fantasies were better in reality than in his own head.

Courtenay’s breath sobbed and he pleaded, _begged, _and he tried to move, to force himself back on Edward’s cock, but Edward clamped a hand down around his hip and held him still. Sweat was trickling down his back and he pressed his other arm across Courtenay’s shoulders, pinning him.

‘_Please!_’

Edward pulled back, withdrawing his cock to the tip, then slammed forward, burying his cock in a single thrust that shoved Courtenay against the tree and made him babble. Edward couldn’t hold back, his hips pistoning in and out. He was so hard, so perfectly in control, Courtenay a vessel to be used. It seemed as if he could last forever, that dawn would break and he would still be fucking Courtenay, no more desperate than he was now.

But it was a dream. He felt his control snap, his movements grow as frantic as Courtenay’s, his voice babbling praise over Courtenay’s desperate pleas, full of trite things like how _good _Courtenay was, how tight and hot his flesh was, how _easily _he took Edward’s cock. He could barely hear himself, a roar of pleasure sounding in his head, pressuring building in his hips, his balls, locking his spine taut. It was too much, too much.

He bit Courtenay’s neck again, vaguely recognised that Courtenay was stroking himself, hose bunched around his thighs, and shouted as he came hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

He came back to awareness, slumped against Courtenay’s back and breathing hard as he felt Courtenay’s body tremble and jerk as Courtenay worked himself to orgasm. He had the image of Courtenay’s seed splattering against the tree trunk and nearly came again.

*

Courtenay made a noise of disgust as they crossed the grounds. Edward felt dazed, half-asleep – all he wanted to do was get to bed and sleep for a year – but he turned to regard Courtenay, worried he had stepped in dung or something worse.

‘What?’

‘I’m _leaking_,’ Courtenay said and started laughing.

It took a moment, but Edward caught his meaning and had to stifle his giggles. He pulled Courtenay close and kissed him.

‘Well, you better have a bath when we get back.’

‘I might fall asleep,’ Courtenay said. ‘You should watch me so I don’t drown.’

‘I will.’

Courtenay grinned at him, wide and wild, and Edward kissed him again.

*

Days passed. Edward fell into an easy rhythm – day seemed more bearable and nights were hedonistic and beautiful. He slept better than he had before, even if he seemed to be up half the night fucking Courtenay vigorously or being vigorously fucked by Courtenay, and during the day, he spent time with Hal or Courtenay, or planning the tournament Hal had asked him to. Though a simple affair – no real prizes, as no one could afford them, and the only competitors were men of the garrison – it was demanding and he had even managed to convince Hal to compete.

Courtenay was of no help on that score. He knew how to ride and, Edward hoped, was capable of _some _self-defence, but he did not know how to joust. But he helped Edward with the logistics, listened to Edward vent and complain and sucked Edward’s cock when he needed the distraction.

He was not happy – he missed Richard too much to be happy – but he was content.

*

On the day of the tournament, Edward sat in the stands and thought they had ended up choosing a good day for jousts. The sky was clear and blue, the sun warm against his back, and there was only a gentle wind. Courtenay was beside him, shading his eyes as he looked down at the lists.

‘You didn’t want to joust?’

Edward shook his head. ‘I’m better at organising than I am at competing. We can’t all be like the king and win competitions before we’re grown.’

‘I suppose not.’

It was going well. The men were clearly eager to let their energy out after the rain and there had been no serious injuries or falls, nor were there attempts – as far as Edward could see – to play out petty grudges on the field.

He straightened when Hal emerged from the tent, mounting his horse. The expression on his face was grim, eyes flat and staring, lips pressed together, but it was quickly lost as he fitted the helm over his head. He took the reins in one hand, the lance in the other and, nudging his horse’s sides with his heels, moved to his starting position.

‘He’s taking it too seriously,’ Edward murmured.

‘Of course he is,’ Courtenay said. He was sitting up tall, eyes focused on Hal.

‘No,’ Edward said. ‘I mean, his posture is wrong, he’s too tense, it’s—’

_It’s going to end badly, _Edward thought. He didn’t have the chance to finish that thought before Hal and his opponent began to move, dust and dirt flying up under their horses’ hooves, the thunderous gallop stealing Edward’s attention. He bit his lip, wanting to pray but only managing to think _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, _over and over again in his head.

Hal fell with a startling clatter.

Courtenay was on his feet running before Edward could even blink. Edward began to follow, shoving his way down, barely aware that one page had run after Hal’s horse. His heart thudded in his ears louder than a gallop. His hands were shaking. At last he was there, kneeling down Hal. Someone had taken his helm off and his face was pale, dazed.

‘Hal?’ Courtenay was beside Hal and was holding his gauntleted hand. ‘Hal?’

Hal blinked and began to pull himself up, Courtenay moving to support him. Hal let out a sigh and let his head fall back against Courtenay’s arm.

‘I need to go again.’

‘No,’ Edward said. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘You don’t learn if you give up.’

Edward shook his head just a physician arrived, kneeling down and reaching out to examine Hal. Hal recoiled.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, annoyed. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Of course you are,’ Courtenay said.

Edward felt his stomach twist. There was something about the way Courtenay said it, some hidden trembling desperation in the calm words, and he turned from Hal to study Courtenay’s face. He was white and thin-lipped, his jaw tense, and his eyes soft, trained on Hal. Edward’s stomach dropped. _Oh, _he thought, _oh. _So this was who Courtenay loved. This was who Courtenay didn’t know how he could live without.

And Hal’s fingers were curled tight around Courtenay’s, accepting the support Courtenay gave him while knocking the physician’s hands from him. Courtenay had said that he wanted something like what Edward had with Richard and that perfect, enduring, comforting love and he wanted that with Hal.

‘_I’m fine,_’ Hal spat. ‘Leave off, will you?’

Edward blinked, dragged his eyes back to Hal. He looked better now, not so pale and dazed and more irritated than anything. He began to pull himself off the ground, holding onto Courtenay for support and then hissed and buckled when he put his weight on his right ankle. The physician moved forward again.

‘It’s just twisted,’ Hal said, waving him off. ‘Nothing worse.’

‘Go inside,’ Edward said. ‘Rest. The physician can satisfy his curiosity then.’

Hal opened his mouth and then looked at Courtenay before nodding with a sigh. They began to move inside, Courtenay supporting his weight. Edward stood, brushing off his knees, and did not follow.

*

After the jousts were over, Edward went to Courtenay’s room. It was empty and Courtenay’s servants were clearly unsure whether to allow Edward entrance but gave way. It seemed as it had before, the room airy and light, the desk neatly organised, papers in one stack, books in another. The jug of wine was gone, but a quill, freshly sharpened, lay beside an unopened pot of ink. Edward picked up one of the books and leafed through it without taking anything in.

He sat down on the bed and covered his face with his hands. He should have seen, should have known – and part of him _had. _He had even asked Courtenay, circling around the subject, and Courtenay had said_ he’s not like us_ and Edward had just accepted it. Courtenay had told him that he knew what it was to love someone so much you couldn’t imagine life without them and Edward had worried Courtenay meant _him. _Courtenay had told him he was _pining _for someone and Edward hadn’t thought about who that could be when it was obvious.

There was no one else it could be.

He told himself it didn’t have to mean anything. If Hal wasn’t like them – or didn’t know or hadn’t accepted he was like them – then there was no reason to assume that Edward was stopping Courtenay from being with Hal. But Courtenay deserved – and _Hal _deserved – to be as happy as Edward had been with Richard.

Edward fell back against the mattress, staring up at the hangings. He felt old and tired and slightly dirty. It didn’t have to mean anything but that was a lie. It did mean something and he couldn’t go on pretending it didn’t. The idea made him feel queasy.

He couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t.

*

The door opened and Edward blinked, hearing Courtenay’s voice and the low-pitched tones of one of his servants responding to him. Courtenay dismissed them and shut the door, locking it. Edward began to sit up as Courtenay rounded the bed, his face mild surprised.

‘He’s alright,’ Courtenay said. ‘No blood, no broken bones. His ankle’s sprained but it’ll be fine in a few days. He really is alright.’

Edward nodded. He rested his head in his hands. It was a relief.

‘Who won? The jousts?’

Edward had to think about it before he dredged up a name. Courtenay nodded and sat down beside him.

‘Why are you here? Did you want to see me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Edward said and then bit his tongue.

He didn’t want to be sad, he didn’t think he could do it, end things with Courtenay. Not tonight. He could have one more night before he was sensible and ended it. He took Courtenay’s hand in his and squeezed.

‘I believe you promised to fuck me over the end of your desk,’ he said.

‘Are you sure? You seem…’ Courtenay shrugged.

‘I’m sure,’ Edward said. ‘I thought you would be pleased.’

‘I am!’

Courtenay laughed and leant in to kiss Edward. It was gentle at first, just a simple press of lips on lips, but Edward deepened it, cupping Courtenay’s jaw and then his shoulder, drawing him to him. He fumbled over the lacings of Courtenay’s clothes only for Courtenay to knock his hands away and undress them both. Edward pulled him close again, his hands working hungrily over Courtenay’s back and shoulders, trying to memorise how he felt, how he looked, how he kissed.

His cock was hard and leaking when his hands gripped Courtenay’s buttocks, kneading the soft flesh, but Courtenay pulled back. Afternoon sun was shining in the window, illuminating his skin and making his hair shine golden.

‘Desk or bed?’

‘Desk.’

Courtenay shoved the papers and books to the floor, was slightly more careful with the inkpot and quill, and Edward bent over the edge, laying his chest against the cool wood. He felt Courtenay move behind him, moving his hair to the side to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to the back of Edward’s neck, nipping gently with his teeth and moving down, his tongue and mouth tracing over each knob of Edward’s spine. Edward gasped, clutched at the sides of the table. This was the last time, he thought.

The last time he would ever be fucked or touched like this. The last time he would be brave enough to ask for it.

A tear streaked down his cheek and he pressed it against the desk so Courtenay wouldn’t see and become alarmed. Courtenay’s mouth had reached the small of his back, the tailbone, and his breath ran hotly over Edward’s hole before Courtenay took his balls in his mouth, working them over with his tongue. He pulled back and Edward felt warm, slick fingers circling over his hole and pushing in, tearing a groan from his mouth.

His cock throbbed hard.

‘You’re so beautiful like this,’ Courtenay told him, working him open. ‘You are. All open and wanton, flushed with pleasure.’

He laid his free hand on Edward’s cheek, pulled it to reveal Edward’s hole to his eyes and Edward whined and forgot it was the last time.

‘Fuck me,’ he babbled. ‘Please, Richard, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!’

Courtenay kissed the back of his neck again, fitting his body into the cradle of Edward’s spread thighs, and pushed in, spearing him open. Edward kept babbling, his words making no sense full of _please _and _harder _and _make me _and _don’t, don’t stop. _His cock was so hard, he could feel it rubbing against the table and leaving traces of stickiness on his belly and chest. Courtenay’s hands were on Edward’s hips and shoulders and everywhere in between, sometimes sliding beneath to fondle Edward’s erection or pinch his nipples and then moved back, squeezing Edward’s buttocks as he fucked Edward, pounding him open, his hips slapping against Edward’s backside.

‘You’re so good,’ Courtenay said. ‘So beautiful.’

Edward groaned, his face hot, and he lost his words, his _pleases _and _mores _and _harders, _his voice whining, his body fucked. He pried one hand off the desk, reached back to grasp Courtenay’s hip and squeezed.

‘I mean it,’ Courtenay said. ‘Beautiful.’

Edward’s voice rose in pitch, a wailing cry breaking free of his mouth, and came all over Courtenay’s desk. Courtenay’s hands tightened on Edward’s hips and he slammed in once, twice, and buried himself deep inside Edward as he came.

For a long moment, all Edward could do was pant and watch his breath condense against the wood, his own seed growing sticky against his chest and belly. He felt absurdly cold. Courtenay went to withdraw and Edward whined, squeezing Courtenay’s hip to still him.

‘I don’t want it to end,’ Edward said. ‘Not so soon.’

‘Who says it’s going to end?’ Courtenay said, breathless.

_Me, _Edward thought, but he couldn’t tell Courtenay that. The sun hadn’t even set. _One more night, _he told himself, _one more night. _

*

The morning was cold and clear and Edward watched Courtenay sleep, his body too restless to dip back under in spite of the few short hours of sleep he had had. His stomach was in a tangle and his heart heavy and black with grief. He couldn’t keep doing this, keep taking Courtenay. He hadn’t wanted to believe last night could end, had pushed himself to be forceful in his lovemaking, wanting to memorise the feel of Courtenay’s body, to make one last claim to it. It was selfish, he supposed – his own body was sore and tender and Courtenay’s would be as well. He could not remember how many times he had come, how many times he had pushed Courtenay to the bed and demanded, _don’t tell me you’re tired now. _

Courtenay began to stir as the church bells sounded. Edward leant in to kiss him, running one hand down his side.

‘If you want to another round, I’m going to have to beg off,’ Courtenay said, eyes drifting shut. ‘I don’t think I can.’

‘No,’ Edward said. Then, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘If I had any complaints, I would’ve voiced them last night,’ Courtenay said. He rolled over, pressing his face against Edward’s shoulder. ‘Silly.’

Edward took a shaky breath. ‘I think we should stop this.’

Courtenay’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, the covers pooling around his waist. ‘What? But we were having such a good time – I thought you were happy.’

‘I am,’ Edward said. He reached out and laid his hand on Courtenay’s arm. ‘I have been the happiest I have been in a long time.’

‘So why – what did I do wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Edward said, heart breaking. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. I just can’t do this anymore.’

Courtenay shook his head. ‘No, no. That doesn’t – it has to be me. Was I too – I don’t know, _free_?’

‘No,’ Edward said. ‘Nothing like that.’

‘Then what?’ Courtenay’s eyes looked suspiciously wet.

‘Because you’re in love with Hal,’ Edward said. ‘And he loves you. And I want you to have that.’

Courtenay shook his head. ‘He’s not like us. He doesn’t like men.’

He had not, Edward realised, denied what Edward said, only saying that Hal’s tastes were the obstacle. Edward wondered whether he really believed Hal wasn’t attracted to him or it was just something he told himself to make his longing more bearable. Edward wondered if he would have found it easier to cope with his own desire for Richard if he hadn’t known about Robert de Vere.

‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ Edward said.

A sob tore free of Courtenay’s mouth and he turned away, covering his face. Edward rubbed his hand along Courtenay’s arm and felt an odd lack of desire, only the urge to comfort him. Courtenay shook his head again and again.

‘I want you to have what Richard and I had,’ Edward said gently. ‘And I think it’s very possible you will. Hal just needs a little more time to work things out. So it’s best we stop this.’

‘He will never be alright with it,’ Courtenay said. ‘It won’t ever happen.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Edward said. ‘I really don’t.’

‘You might not,’ Courtenay said. ‘But I know it.’

He didn’t try to argue with Edward any longer, leaving bed to wash by the basin and dress carefully. His face seemed carefully blank save for the tears that ran down his cheek. When he was dressed fully, he dried his tears and looked at Edward.

‘Are you sure about this?’

Edward nodded. He felt – he didn’t know how he felt. In parts defeated and lonely and hopeful and heavy. Courtenay swallowed.

‘I think it best that I leave early, then,’ Courtenay said. ‘Went back to Oxford. It will be easier for us both.’

‘He loves you,’ Edward said. ‘You know he does.’

Courtenay gave him a grief-filled smile. ‘And sometimes, that’s what hurts the most.’

*

Courtenay was gone within two days. Edward was amazed at how quickly he had organised his departure and that, somehow, he had left without Edward even realising it. One moment, everything was being made ready and the next, Courtenay and his attendants were gone, his room empty. He went to find Hal, still limping on his bad ankle, and found that Courtenay had left in the early morning and Hal had seen him off.

‘Do you miss him?’ Hal asked, playing with a sheet of parchment.

Edward nodded. ‘He’s good company.’

Hal nodded. He had begun to tear the parchment into tiny fragments. He sighed and rubbed his face.

‘Every time he’s with me,’ Hal started and then fell silent. He sighed. ‘Every time he’s with me, it feels right. And when he smiles, it’s like – I don’t know, like the sun’s shining through him and _I_ feel right. And then he goes away and it feels like autumn has given way to winter and has taken spring and summer with it.’

Edward looked down at his hands. ‘You love him.’

‘He’s my friend,’ Hal said, voice suddenly sharp. ‘He’s a good friend, that’s all. Of course I love him.’

Hal’s cheeks were crimson and Edward hastily put his hands up to placate him.

‘I didn’t mean anything but that,’ he said, though he knew he had. ‘He has been a good friend to me as well.’

Hal took a deep breath and seemed to settle.

‘Are you alright?’ Edward asked.

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.’ Hal scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘I need to get back to work. Will you be alright on your own?’

Edward smiled. ‘I always am.’

*

At Tewkesbury in December, Edward and Hal went hunting together for a week. It was better than Edward had expected – they made good, clean kills that were satisfying, he wrote many pages of his book and the air was cold in a way that made him feel like he’d been scoured all over. He had been through worse than losing Courtenay, he still had Hal’s friendship and he would be alright again.

One dark night, Edward lay in his bed, listening to the wind howl outside, and then frowned, hearing a scratch at his door before it opened and Hal, face illuminated by the fire, was pulling open the hangings.

‘I need to talk,’ he said, voice quiet. ‘I don’t know who I can trust with this but I thought – _you._ You’d understand.’

Edward nodded, brain struggling to make sense of this. ‘I won’t tell anyone, whatever it is.’

Hal smiled. ‘That’s what they all say.’

He sat cross-legged on the foot of Edward’s bed, arms wrapped around himself. He chewed on his lip and then looked down at his hands, picking at his skin. Edward reached out, finding a spare blanket and wrapping it around Hal’s shoulders. Hal flashed him a sickly smile.

‘Have you ever loved someone in a way you shouldn’t?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Edward said. ‘Though I suppose some would disagree with. I never did see it that way – it was the most perfect thing I could ever think of.’

‘You’re not talking about the verses you wrote for the queen, are you?’

‘Never.’

Hal gave a weak laugh and hugged his knees to his chest. He was twenty-three but looked even younger than that, as though he was a child again.

‘I love someone I shouldn’t,’ Hal said. ‘Not the queen, of course. Spare me that.’

‘She’s not a bad woman.’

‘I suppose,’ Hal said, shrugging. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No.’

‘It drives me mad,’ Hal said. He held his hands in front of his face as if he was trying to hide. ‘I should be content with what I have but I can’t be. I have to keep wanting something I shouldn’t.’

‘Hal,’ Edward said gently. ‘Whatever it is, whoever it is that you love, it’s alright.’

‘No,’ Hal said. ‘It’s not. God, I wish Richard was here. I could tell him anything and I know he’d still love me. He’d tell me what I needed to hear.’

Edward swallowed. ‘I wish he was here too.’

Hal rubbed his face, pushed his fingers back into his hair. His shoulders slumped. ‘What do I do, Ned? Do I just pretend, keep praying this will end and one day I’ll wake up and be normal? That I won’t – won’t be a filthy—’

He went pale and covered his face again. Edward’s heart ached and he reached out, hugged him tightly. He was sturdier and bigger than Edward thought, his body taut with muscle. Hal hadn’t been a child in years. Edward pulled back and kissed his forehead.

‘You’re not filthy,’ he said fiercely. ‘You’re not dirty or foul or anything like that. It’s just love, Hal. Just love. It’s nothing to hate or fear.’

*

**Epilogue, 1410**

Edward sunk into the warm bath with a sigh. He had ridden in to join Hal at this fortress and he was desperate to wash away the evidence of his journey away and warm his bones again. It was frigid outside, though not as cold as it could have been. It was still winter but the worst of it appeared to have passed. During the journey, he had seen trees already sporting new growth and the sky had remained an amazing, clear, crisp blue with no clouds to be seen.

Hal had seemed steadier – brighter – when Edward had been received by him and Edward dared to hope it was because things had settled between him and Courtenay. He did not think he could stand it if it hadn’t. But he could hardly ask with so many people watching them.

He began to wash himself, scrubbing at his body with a sponge. Soon, he knew, he would have the chance to speak with Hal or Courtenay on his own and find out. In the meantime, he could only hope.

When he was clean and dressed in fresh clothes, he went down to hunt one or both of them out and found them in the courtyard. They were walking in the courtyard together, close enough that their hands and shoulders brushed against each other, and their heads were together, their voices low. Edward’s mouth curved into a smile, pure joy bubbling inside of him. They were young and in love and they were happy.

He went back inside. He did not want to disturb them – they could talk later.

*

He met Hal in his solar, a warm, bright room with a fire burning in the hearth and bookshelves against one wall. Hal was sitting beside the fire and gestured for Edward to take the chair opposite it, offering him a cup of wine.

‘How was your Christmas? You survived, I take it.’

Edward laughed and sipped at the wine. ‘No, this is just my poor, lonely soul wandering around, crying for revenge against my sister.’

‘Careful,’ Hal said. ‘Someone might throw something at you to test your claim.’

‘You’ll be the first, I wager,’ Edward said and Hal’s lips curled into a grin and he made as if to throw his cup at Edward.

‘No, waste of good wine,’ Hal said. ‘How it was it, really?’

‘Not bad,’ Edward said. ‘I avoided Constance as much as I could, and Philippa’s always good company.’

They talked of idle things – Hal reported back on his own Christmas, which had seemed as good as Edward’s, the current state of his father’s health and how his brothers were and news of his sister Philippa in Denmark. Edward took a breath.

‘You seem… happier,’ he said.

Hal blinked and nodded. ‘I suppose I am.’

‘Did you settle… what we talked about?’

‘I think so,’ Hal said, teeth digging briefly into his lip. ‘I’m still not sure, some days. But it’s so much better being like this, no longer trying to resist.’ He paused to drink some wine. ‘You never asked, who it was. At first I wondered whether it was easier for you not to know the details. Now I wonder if you already knew.’

‘I could guess,’ Edward said. ‘I didn’t think it could be anyone else.’

Hal’s eyes widened and he looked suddenly earnest in a way he hadn’t for eleven years. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It really couldn’t.’

*

It was harder to speak to Courtenay. At first, Edward thought Courtenay was avoiding him for some reason but at dinner the next day, they were seated next to each other and Courtenay showed no sense of trepidation or shame about the concept, chatting to Edward cheerfully about some of the new scholarship he’d come across at Oxford and asking about Edward’s own book. At the end of the meal, Hal had to return to his duties but Courtenay asked Edward to walk with him in the courtyard.

Edward did not know what to say to him as they stepped outside. There was so much he wanted to say but he could not seem to order his thoughts well enough to know where to begin. Courtenay took his elbow and squeezed.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if we would have – if he would have – if it wasn’t for you.’

Edward smiled. ‘I told him I was happy for you both and I am. I feel like – I should threaten you, say something like, _if you hurt him, I’ll kill you, _but I know you won’t. You’ll take good care of him.’

‘I will, I promise,’ Courtenay said. ‘You have my permission to maim and kill me if I don’t.’

Edward snorted out a laugh. ‘Right. I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘You know,’ Courtenay said, after a while. ‘If you want to, I can help you find someone discreet. Someone I used to know and have fun with. He’s a good man – as I said, discreet.’

Edward nodded. He felt breathless. ‘Alright. Someone you trust.’

‘Of course,’ Courtenay said. He squeezed Edward’s elbow again. ‘And are you alright? You haven’t been too lonely?’

Edward swallowed hard, looking away. The barren trees were swaying in a light wind, their new growth almost invisible. ‘I’m always lonely.’

‘I know,’ Courtenay said.

‘It was hard, the first few nights. Sleeping alone. But then I was with Philippa and she’s – she’s good at cuddling, even if she isn’t who I want. But I can’t have who I want.’

Courtenay nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘No,’ Courtenay said. ‘But I’m still sorry you’re alone. I’m still sorry he’s dead. He was a good man.’

Edward felt his eyes grow wet and breathed in deeply, trying to push back his tears. ‘He was. And he loved me.’

**Author's Note:**

> Richard Courtenay was the son of Sir Philip Courtenay of Powderham Castle in Devon and his wife Anne, the nephew and "foster-son" of William Courtenay, Archbishop of Canterbury. He was a prelate who rapidly advanced through the ranks of the church, was twice-elected Chancellor of Oxford and became Bishop of Norwich in 1413. However, as Juliet Barker puts it, he "was a man who, despite his profession, had put his extraordinary abilities wholly at the service of his king rather than his God" and was basically Henry V's BFF. When he died at Harfleur on 15 September 1415, Hal attended his deathbed, bathed his feet and closed his eyes. Hal also arranged for Courtenay to be buried in the shrine of Edward the Confessor. Most official descriptions of his tomb (e.g. [the Westminster Abbey website](https://www.westminster-abbey.org/abbey-commemorations/commemorations/richard-courtenay)) place his tomb underneath "the base of the northern turret of Henry V's Chantry" but there is an alternative story that he's buried with Henry V. While the official version is more likely (iirc, there's no evidence Henry V's tomb has ever been opened while there are accounts of the rediscovery of Courtenay's tomb in 1953), this "oh my god, they _shared a tomb_" story has led to some - including the current Earl of Devon, Courtenay's indirect descendent - theorising that Courtenay and Henry V were lovers.


End file.
